The Pain in the Past
by broilthesuspect
Summary: After VNM's death, Brennan and Booth are forced to deal with life-changing news. What will happen when their past and a new face comes to haunt them? True to the real characters. Pre-sleepover... this is not a pregnancy fic.
1. The Return

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bones._**

**_Day1_**

_Ring, Ring._

_Ring, Ring._

Brennan rolled over. _It's only 3:40, _she thought. Only three hours before, Brennan's plane landed from Turkey. Booth had convinced her to go on a dig to keep safe while Brodsky was being hunted down.

_Ring, Ring. _

Brennan slapped her outstretched hand on the nightstand, knocking her cell phone onto the floor and incidentally cutting herself on a Peruvian artifact she kept as decoration.

_Ring, Ring._

_Oh well, _Brennan thought, _if it is important, they will call again._

Brennan slipped back into blissful sleep, only to be woken up 15 minutes later by a loud banging sound. Brennan shot up in bed. Quickly, she made a list in her head of who could be at the door. Booth had been in Richmond, Virginia to lay low while Brodsky was unaccounted for. Angela couldn't drive this late in her pregnancy and Hodgins was too lazy to be up this early to bring her. But Brennan's mind jumped back. Brodsky.

Brennan immediately ran to her bathroom to get her gun. Brennan made a mental note to move her gun back to somewhere more accessible. Booth once told her most people kept their important things in their underwear drawer, so she moved her gun to the less accessible bathroom cabinet.

"Hello?" she called. "Who is there?" she heard a muffled response, but nothing discernible. Slowly, she watched as the doorknob turned. Brennan's heart dropped as she prepared herself to possibly shoot her intruder.

The door swung open to reveal Agent Seeley Booth holding a go-go tray with coffees, a large take-out bag, and a wad of papers in his mouth. Before he had a chance to look up, Brennan had her eyes closed and her gun pointed at her still-unknown visitor.

"WHOA, Bones!" In one swift motion, Booth had dropped the papers, the take-out bag, and the coffees and had pulled his gun. He pushed past her into the apartment. "Bones, open your eyes! What the hell are you doing with your gun in my face? " He grabbed the gun from Brennan's hand and slid it onto the table. He then grabbed her hand and examined the deep cut she acquired in her interrupted sleep.

"I thought you might have been Brodsky," she said matter-of-factly.

"And why would you think that?" Booth asked, honestly confused about her answer.

"He's a sniper, Booth, and he's targeting you. By extension, I am also a target because I am your partner. You should remember that connection from our previous cases in which someone has wanted us dead. Furthermore, I…"

"Bones, did you check your phone before you came to the door and tried to blow my head off?"

Brennan moved away from Booth and began picking up what Booth dropped. Clearly irritated that he hadn't allowed her to finish, she explained "I came to the door to blow Brodsky's head off." Booth gave her a look. "But no, why is that relevant?"

"I called you to tell you I was coming over." Booth sat down on the couch, making it obvious he was in no mood to help clean up the mess.

"Booth, it's not even 4am. Why are you here?" Brennan seemed more than a little miffed that he interrupted her well-deserved and rarely-gotten sleep just so that she could clean his mess.

"I couldn't wait another minute to tell you… we got 'im, Bones! We got Brodsky!"

Brennan's eyes changed from tired annoyance to relief. "Good." After killing Mr. Nigel-Murray, Brennan had never felt so convicted a person should die for killing another human being. "He deserved to die."

Booth had killed many people, but was shocked at her reaction. "Well, Bones, he's actually in prison, but we're finally safe… so let's celebrate!" Brennan couldn't help noticing the childlike elation in Booth's eyes. Booth grabbed her hand to pull her to sit on the couch.

"OW! Booth, that hurts!" Brennan turned her hand over to show Booth. The cut was deeper than she thought when she was still in bed.

"And what exactly happened to your hand if you were here alone?" Booth immediately left to find her first aid kit. "It's not like you to not patch it up yourself."

"My cell phone rang," Brennan got up and walked toward her bathroom, speaking louder for Booth to hear her, "and I reached for it and cut it on a relic I kept from a dig last year."

Booth came out of the bathroom wearing one of his goofy smiles. He gave a small laugh and got close to Brennan's face. "Promise me," he whispered, "that you're not going to use your weapons in the dark ever again." He turned around, laughing as he went. "What would you do without me, Bones?"

"I can do almost anything without you, Booth. Your alpha male tendencies cause you to overestimate your importance."

Booth snapped his head around, mouth open. "Harsh, Bones, harsh. You must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed." He continued to look for the kit.

"I assume you mean I am in a foul mood. Angela has said the same thing to me before…"

Ignoring her attempt to explain how there was no possible way to wake up on an incorrect side of her expensive imported mattress, Booth called to her, "Where are your Band-aids and stuff, Bones? I thought it was under your sink."

Brennan had walked to the kitchen to start making coffee. "There is a kit in my underwear drawer; there should be sufficient supplies there."

Booth was not exactly surprised. He knew Brennan would have some sort of ridiculous explanation for why her kit was in her drawer of unmentionables. Booth removed the kit from the drawer, avoiding touching or seeing the rest of its contents. He walked into the kitchen, taking a guess at the kit's strange location.

"You moved your gun when I told you it was the first place someone looks for valuable items, and switched it with your first aid kit under the sink, didn't you?" Booth said with a self-satisfactory grin.

"Good deduction, Booth!" Brennan smiled at him. She couldn't help it. She enjoyed finally having someone in her life that understood her reason for doing things. Although, sometimes it was a little frustrating that he was good enough to guess her computer password when writing her books.

Booth shrugged, as if to say she shouldn't be surprised. "Now lemme see it." He stretched his hand out to take hers. "Geez, Bones, this is pretty damn bad. And that's coming from me." He cleaned her hand with the rubbing alcohol, and applied the antibacterial gel. As he finished wrapping her hand in gauze, he mentioned that Cam may have to give her a few stitches that day at work.

"There, good as new." He gave her hand a quick kiss.

"What was that for?" Brennan inquired.

"C'mon Bones, didn't your parents ever kiss your boo-boos to make them better?" Booth shot her an endearing smile, knowing there was an explanation to come.

"My parents were felons, Booth. Also, I don't know what boo-boos are but I assume you are referring to lacerations. Thirdly, kisses are in no way possessive of healing properties, so that was unnecessary."

Booth held her hand in his. "You know, Bones, it's pretty cute when you try to use your logic on me. You know I'm a feelings guy." Booth lifted her hand and kissed it again. This time it was meant slightly differently than the last.

**AN: Hello everyone! (Anyone there reading this?) This is my first story EVER. I want to try to stay true to the characters on Bones, as they are the reason why the television series is so good. I love good B&B romance like anyone, but I love to see the stolen glances and awkward conversations just as much. Bear with me and please give feedback! Thanks!**


	2. The Discovery

_**Day 2**_

"That is absurd, Booth." Brennan roughly set her money on the bar. "Thanks Sid." Sid offered the anthropologist an acknowledging nod.

Booth grabbed his coat and jumped up to follow her. "Whoa, now, Bones. I wasn't trying to offend you. If anything you should be flattered that he was hitting on you!"

"The absurdity I am referring to, Booth, was your reaction. Did you have to be so callous in speaking to him?"

"He didn't need to be speaking to my partner like she was something to snack on - especially when he sees you sitting with another man. A handsome one at that." Booth smirked as he opened the door for Brennan, following her outside.

"I don't believe you could possibly discern that he was a cannibal..." Brennan paused. "Oh, I see," Brennan laughed, "you meant snack as a metaphor for wanting to have sexual relations. Very clever, Booth. You are getting very funny!" Brennan laughed again, getting into Booth's SUV.

"Whadda ya mean _getting_, Bones? I've always been funny. You're just now getting my jokes, that's all." Booth's phone rang.

"Booth." He paused. "We'll be there in ten." Booth hung up the phone, turning to Brennan. "We've got a body. Did you really not think I was funny before?"

"You seem bothered. If it makes you feel better, I didn't think your jokes were very funny before because I assume they were too immature and idiotic for me to comprehend. You are very funny now." Brennan laughed.

Booth became serious. "Don't call me stupid, Bones. I know you're a genius and everything but I am not an idiot."

Brennan's brow furrowed. She realized she had offended Booth. "I don't mean to say you're stupid, Booth, I just meant..."

"Doesn't matter. Let's just focus on the case, okay?" Booth gestured with his hand to emphasize his desire for the conversation to be over, and put on his sunglasses. They remained quiet for the rest of the ride.

* * *

><p>"Female, approximately 30 years old, has had at least one child, bone structure indicates caucasian." Brennan paused, turning her head to look closer. Booth looked on, the sun beating down on them both.<p>

"Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. With the rate of decomp of the clothing, I'd say she's only been here two weeks." Brennan stood, while continuing to look over the body.

"Alright, people, you know a GSW means murder so let's get all of this" Booth waved his hands over the body "back to the Jeffersonian. Be on the lookout for a fairly large bullet."

Booth began walking towards his vehicle. Without turning, he called to Brennan. "You coming or what, Bones?"

Brennan took off her gloves. _Booth is acting strange, _she thought. She let the thought pass, knowing that Booth was, in fact, a very difficult person for her to read. If only she had his skills for reading people, she'd be able to tell what he was thinking. She walked back to the SUV, kit in hand.

* * *

><p>The pair got almost all the way to the Jeffersonian before Brennan decided to speak. "I think she might have been wealthy."<p>

"And what makes you think that?" Booth still looked annoyed, but was genuinely interested in what anthropological fact she would have as reasoning for her deduction.

"Her shoes had red bottoms." Brennan stopped, then turned to Booth, looking at her incredulously. She went on to explain. "When my last book came out, I went shopping with Angela. She said she wanted to spend her check on shoes, and she looked at those because she said she could never afford such nice shoes." Brennan raised her eyebrows, connecting the two pieces in her head. "The victim must have had money to be able to afford those shoes and the outfit she was wearing." Brennan paused, clearly already connecting something else in her head. Booth remained quiet, still just watching the road.

"Hannah had some of those shoes. She must have had quite a bit of money saved from..."

Booth quickly interrupted the doctor's thought. "Stop. Just stop, Bones. You don't need to bring Hannah up." Booth took off his sunglasses and slammed them into the dash in front of them. "And besides, she didn't buy those shoes, I did. They were a gift."

Brennan considered apologizing, but realized at this point, saying nothing might keep Booth calmer than trying to make it right. She didn't feel like her comment had been out of line, after all, Brennan and Hannah were friends until she and Booth broke up. Brennan stared out the window, thinking about her partner's latest attitude shift. They rode the rest of the way to the Jeffersonian in tense silence.

* * *

><p>"You're right, Bren. These are definitely Louboutins." Angela held the shoes up, lost in a gaze that expressed her jealousy that someone who couldn't even wear the shoes owned them and that her swollen feet wouldn't be able to wear them anyway. She set down the shoe and sighed.<p>

"I am just ready for this thing to get out of here." She held her belly and looked down, speaking to the baby, "I sure hope you're cuter than my profile right now."

Hodgins swiped his card and walked up onto the platform. Placing a soft kiss on Angela's cheek, he said confidently, "With parents as good looking as us, there isn't a way we could have an unattractive baby."

Angela accepted the compliment for a half second before her eyes fell back to reality and her swollen belly. Hodgins approached Brennan.

"Dr. B, I found some particulates that might be interesting to you," he paused, waiting for a response that would never come. He continued, "There are some spores from a tree that could not have been anywhere near the construction site where the victim was found..." he trailed off as Brennan walked away. Hodgins gave Angela a look from across the platform, almost as to say '_What's wrong with her?' _Angela shot him a look of both annoyance and sympathy. She carefully descended the steps, making her way to Brennan's office. On her way, she saw Booth waiting outside Brennan's office.

Angela stopped her waddle to smile and talk to Booth. "Hey there, Studly. Why are you waiting out here? Not in the doghouse are we?" Angela teased.

Booth looked up at her and just shook his head. Angela could tell there was something he was not willing to say, but did not want to press him. She rested her hand on his shoulder for just a second then continued on to Brennan's office. When she entered Brennan's office, Brennan was sitting at her desk, reading a file. Angela approached her with caution, to try and breach the subject of her mood carefully. "Hey Bren."

"Ange." She didn't look up.

"Bren, is something wrong? Because Hodgins had information..."

"Ange, unless this relates to the case and not to my feelings, I would suggest you just stop there." Angela was not surprised. In all of the years of their friendship, Brennan never really had a problem telling someone to go away. Angela, however, was a perfect match for Brennan because she was persistent, and could get information out of her.

"Sweetie, I can tell that something is wrong. You and Booth are pouting. Separately. Which in my experience is much worse than you two bickering. What's going on?" Angela moved towards Brennan, and put her hand on hers and lowered the file in Brennan's hand. Brennan looked up at Angela, eyes red and swollen.

"It's not me, it's Booth." She finally spoke. "He and I got in an argument this morning because he thought I called him stupid. Really I was just calling his jokes immature."

Angela sat in a chair next to Brennan's. "I'm sure it will all blow over soon, honey. Are you really that upset about this? You look like you've been crying."

Brennan shook her head. "That's not what I'm so upset about." Brennan opened the file in front of her, a medical chart, with a picture paper clipped inside. "This is why." She handed the file to Angela and recounted the events of the last few hours.

_Brennan and Booth entered the Jeffersonian quickly and silently, besides the clicking of Brennan's heels on the floor. Booth was following Brennan, headed to her office. When they both got inside, Booth slammed the door and started to yell._

_"How could you keep this from me? I mean, I would expect it from Rebecca but not from you! When were you going to tell me?"_

_Brennan stood in front of him, sure that she could handle whatever insults or scolding he had to offer. "I've only known for a month, Booth, and with you hunting Brodsky, it was important that you not be disturbed. Rebecca and I agreed that..."_

_"You had no right to make decisions about my son without me! He's not your child! Hell, you don't even want to be a mother, so how could you possibly know what's right for him?" Booth put his hands in his hair and turned away from her. Brennan stood, quietly. She was very aware of the fact that she was not Parker's __ mother. But she did know Booth and his temper. Booth turned on his heel and got back into her face. "I thought I could trust you, Temperance!" Brennan shuddered slightly at the name. It was very infrequently that Booth chose to use her given name - usually in moments that were private and sweet. But this, this was a Seeley Booth she was not used to. _

_"Booth, I was simply..." _

_"I don't want to hear it. You close yourself off so no one can figure you out. You make terrible decisions about your personal life and then you let it affect everyone else. I don't know why I ever thought that this partnership would last. Send that file back to where you got it and stay out of my business and my family's!" _

_Booth stormed out of the office and walked out to the hallway, where he sat on a small bench, playing with a die from his pocket. Brennan stood still for another second, surprised at what just happened. It had been so quick, so strange. It wasn't like Booth to become so rough with her all of a sudden. She didn't believe in the science of psychology, but she assumed that Booth was being protective of Parker and was just upset. She walked to her desk, reminding herself to attach her notes to the file before sending it back to the medical center. _

_Brennan sat still and quiet at her desk, staring into space. She thought about what Booth said. '_I don't know why I ever thought that this partnership would last.' _The words floated around in her head and slowly absorbed. She had made a mistake in thinking she was helping Booth. Now it seemed that he didn't even want to be her partner. The floodgates opened and Brennan began to weep. This partnership was more to her than finding justice and an identity for the victims she saw everyday. Booth had become a great friend and confidant. She knew his friendship would be important coming up, especially with Angela's baby arriving so soon. She alienated the one person that she felt would always be around. _

_Brennan sat and cried for nearly a half an hour when she caught herself. She felt silly, irrational, that the reaction of one person could determine her mood. She wiped her eyes and made her way to the platform, swiping her card and beginning to look at x-rays of the high-heeled victim._

**AN: I hope no one is too upset with me for making it so tense so soon, and with so little B&B action... but knowing the way the story is going and the protective nature of Booth... I promise it's worth it. Please review and let me know what you think - good or bad!**


	3. The Anger

_**Day 2**_

Booth stared down the road. He was irritated. More than anything, he was irritated with Brodsky. He didn't want to say anything to Brennan, but he knew that he killed this woman before he was put in jail. From the call he got earlier, he knew the statistics were the same – long-range shot, solid copper bullet, excellent aim. He knew that Brodsky was in jail now and couldn't hurt anyone else, but he couldn't help but beat himself up for not getting the son of a bitch faster.

But he was also irritated with Bones. This woman he had been in love with, and admitted it to, turned him down. As soon as she realized he had moved on, she decided to share her feelings for him, but he had been with Hannah. He kicked himself for being with Hannah when Bones told him. He loved Hannah, but not like Bones. She was different altogether. And now, when he defended her in front of a sleazy guy at Sid's, he was sure that between the four people that witnessed the interaction – Booth, Brennan, Sid, and the sleaze – that she had been the only one not to see that Booth's protective reaction was out of love, not malice.

At the crime scene, Booth focused on the details and tried to forget not only her failure to recognize his intentions but also her calling him stupid. He could handle being made fun of, but being stupid was something he had tried to disprove his entire childhood. Bones called out the facts to Booth, and Booth relayed it to his team and quickly called for the body to be bagged and sent to the Jeffersonian.

His irritation was only heightened by seeing the shoes that the victim was wearing. They were the same stupid, expensive shoes as he had bought Hannah while they were together. Plain black pumps. He knew the victim wasn't Hannah from the description that Bones had given him - but when she mentioned Hannah directly in the car, Booth couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop. Just stop, Bones. You don't need to bring Hannah up." In an effort not to slam his fist into something out of anger, he threw his sunglasses at the dash, effectively breaking one of the arms. "And besides, she didn't buy those shoes, I did. They were a gift."

He could tell he'd made his partner the slightest bit uncomfortable, if only for a second. He continued on to the Jeffersonian, imagining what he'd like to do to Jacob Brodsky if he had his way.

Booth parked at the Jeffersonian and got out to open the door for Brennan to get her kit out of the back. She grabbed the kit quickly and started walking towards the entrance. Before Booth closed the door, he saw what appeared to be a case file in the floorboard. He assumed that in his angry driving, this folder had fallen out of her bag. He grabbed it and locked the vehicle and started walking along the same path she had taken.

They had almost reached the entrance when he decided to see what she had missed on the floor of the SUV. As Booth opened the file, he saw a picture of Parker. He anxiously began to read the file in disbelief. He stopped, knowing that something was going on. But why did Brennan have his son's medical records?

"BONES!" Booth bellowed after her as he began to walk again. Brennan swiftly stopped in place, looking back at Booth and immediately realizing what he had in his hand.

"What the hell is this?" he questioned. "You left this in the floorboard when you got your kit out. What are you doing with my son's medical records?"

By this time, Booth was directly in front of Brennan and was staring right at her. "I was going to tell you…" she grabbed the folder from his hand and turned to walk in the building. _Perfect_, Booth thought, _now she's forcing me to make a scene._

Despite his willingness to yell at her right then and there with everyone in the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab to listen, he didn't want them all to know his business. He followed Brennan into her office and slammed the door.

He started yelling at her with words he himself couldn't even remember later. He was so livid with the combination of the day's events that he had stopped thinking before speaking entirely. How had he trusted her when she had failed to mention that she was examining his son's files for something he himself couldn't bear to comprehend at the moment? He finished his rant and stormed out, finding a bench to sit on. He pulled a die from his pocket and began turning it over in his hands nervously.

He was worried for Parker. Worried about what would come next. Sitting on the other side of her office wall, he could hear her crying. Although his first instinct was to run in and apologize for yelling, he knew that she deserved it. She deceived him. After a while, he saw her walk to the platform and begin to look at x-rays with almost no sign of distress.

_Screw her, _he thought. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for an answer from God as to what to do, he saw her return to her office, and shortly after, Angela coming after her. Angela spotted Booth and made a pit stop before heading to Brennan's office. Booth lowered his head in what he felt was both a prayer and an attempt at avoiding an inevitably personal conversation.

"Hey there, Studly. Why are you waiting out here? Not in the doghouse are we?"

Booth looked up at her. If there was something Angela was good at, it was getting information out of people. Her sweet face and sympathetic eyes served her well in cracking even the toughest safe of a person, like Bones. Being pregnant only helped her cause. Booth shook his head and lowered his gaze again. He was thankful when he only felt a hand on his shoulder and heard her walk away.

He finally got up and decided to do something about all of this. He opened his phone and dialed Rebecca's number. He fully intended on seeing his son, regardless of Rebecca's opinion on the matter.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I thought it was important to show Booth's point of view in this too. Although Booth is incredibly mad right now, we all know we still love him. Soon you'll realize just why he's so mad at Brennan. Please review! I appreciate knowing what you think!<strong>


	4. The Breakdown

_**Day 2**_

"Where's Parker?"

Rebecca had just opened the door to her apartment when Booth pushed his way inside. "He's in his room, Seeley. Don't you think we need to talk first, though?"

Booth started walking towards Parker's room. "No, I need to see my son."

"Dad! You're back!" Parker ran to hug his dad, left arm complete with an above-the-elbow cast. "How was your trip? Did you bring me anything cool? Mom said when we were at the doctor that you would probably bring me something. I got a black cast because you would think it was cool. I'm so glad you're back dad."

Booth squeezed his son, just thankful that his son still wanted to talk to him after he had been gone for so long in Richmond. "Yeah, Parks, I brought you some really cool stuff, but it has to wait until your mom and I talk. Maybe after we can go get some food together." Booth looked over Parker's shoulder at Rebecca, who nodded at the request.

"Oh yeah dad! Can Bones come with us? She said she would sign my cast when I got the new one on!" Parker jumped down and looked up at his dad, waiting for a response.

Booth's emotions felt like a roller coaster. In the past few days, he had arrested Brodsky, been reunited with his partner, found out that his ex and partner had lied about his son, and now Parker was tugging at his already weakened heartstrings with his request.

"I think Dr. Brennan is busy tonight, sorry Parks." Booth couldn't even bear to use her nickname if he didn't have to. "Now let your mom and me talk and then we'll go, okay? "

"OK!" Booth was glad Parker dropped the subject of Bones joining them. He walked out of Parker's room behind Rebecca into the living room where he sat and rested his head in his hands. He was feeling unsure of whether he wanted to know the extent of what Rebecca was about to tell him, or if the details would anger him too much.

"Seeley…" Rebecca started, "I am sorry we kept it from you. It was just that you were in Virginia and we knew you had to catch Jacob…" she trailed off.

Booth shuddered slightly at the use of Jacob Brodsky's name. "Just start at the beginning, Rebecca, I want to know everything." Even if he didn't want to know everything, he knew it was the best way for him to make sense of it.

"The day you left, Parker was upset," Rebecca sat in a chair across from Booth, "so I took him to the rink to work out his frustrations."

Booth smiled for a second, knowing his son was taking after him. There was nothing like a little on-ice pickup to cheer him up.

"Parker was just playing and somehow he got tripped. He fell onto his elbow and another kid fell on top of him. "

"I didn't even cry, dad!" Parker yelled from the hallway. Rebecca kindly excused him to go play some music and let them have a private conversation. Booth couldn't help but laugh. Parker was becoming a miniature version of his father so quickly.

"He said he was fine." Rebecca continued. "But I took him to the emergency room because his elbow was swollen so badly. When we got there, they did x-rays and found out he fractured his ulna. They casted it and sent us home.

"On our way out, we saw Camille and her boyfriend Paul. She suggested we let Dr. Brennan see the x-rays to see if there was anything she could do. Parker loved that idea," Rebecca paused, as the look on Booth's face showed some displeasure, "so I called her and we met at the diner."

Booth leaned forward. "Brennan was already gone by then. Her flight left Dulles that night at 11."

"She rescheduled her flight to come see us," Rebecca let out a small laugh, "evidently when you're a famous author, you can afford to do that kind of thing." Rebecca looked up at Booth, who was very obviously not amused. She continued, "Dr. Brennan looked at the film and said she wanted to do more x-rays to make sure there was nothing else."

Booth leaned back on the couch where he sat and groaned. He was growing more and more upset that Brennan hadn't just allowed the doctors to do their own job. Offering to use the Jeffersonian's equipment to do additional x-rays only made him that more upset that neither Rebecca nor Brennan – or Camille, for that matter - had cared to inform him that his son broke his arm.

Sensing Booth's irritation, Rebecca tried to defend herself and the doctor. "She was very kind, Seeley. She loves Parker and just wanted to give a second opinion," she reached a hand and placed it on his knee, "and that is never a bad thing."

Booth stood up, nervous energy getting the best of him. "Then what did she say? I saw the file, but I don't understand any of it." Booth began to pace.

"She saw a shadow on the x-ray in his humerus - his upper arm…"

"I know what a humerus is Rebecca, get to the point."

"He has a tumor in his bone marrow. I took him to the doctor the day after Dr. Brennan found it. They took a biopsy and said it was a rare, malignant form of bone cancer, called Ewing's sarcoma." At the sound of the words, Rebecca broke down into sobs. Booth continued to pace, giving the response no mind. Rebecca continued through sobs, "They did all kinds of tests, Seeley. The tumor is localized and…" she paused to wipe her nose, "it hasn't metastasized, so they think Parker's got a pretty good shot of getting through this. The doctors said we're lucky Dr. Brennan caught it. They weren't even looking at Parker's upper arm when they looked at the x-rays."

Booth leaned with both of his hands against the wall in the living room. Up until this point, he had resolved himself to being angry at the women in his life for keeping this from him. He gave up on the façade he built to seem strong. This was his son. His only son. Booth's own father had been awful to him, and had been far from the model father. Booth tried his best with his hectic schedule and responsibilities to provide for Parker, but he couldn't help but feel guilty that his choices in life had drawn him away from his son – the Rangers, the FBI, murder, and even his relationships with women kept him from spending enough time with his son.

Booth broke down. He felt like he had let Parker down. Booth slammed his fist into the wall, crying.

Parker's bedroom door opened, and slowly, Parker made his way to his father, who was now on the floor against the wall. Rebecca excused herself to her room. "Dad, it's gonna be okay." Parker said. "You said that I'm a Booth, right?" Parker put his hand on his dad's shoulder. "That means I'm tough. I'm gonna be fine, Dad. I promise. Don't be sad." Booth held Parker in his arms, fully intending on never letting go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One of my best friends in high school had AML, Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Through her, I met a beautiful girl named Emily who had Ewing's sarcoma. Sadly, Emily's fight with the disease ended in 2008. Her family was inspired by her incredible passion for life and perseverance and started the Emily's Kids Foundation. The Foundation takes donations to purchase gift cards and other assistance that goes DIRECTLY to families dealing with childhood cancer - including local tattoo shops donating proceeds of tattoos designed by the foundation! Her story is very near and dear to my heart, so I felt no problem in doing a shameless plug for their foundation since it fit into my story line so well. <strong>

**I'm not sure how the rules work as far as posting links are concerned, but if you Google Emily's Kids Foundation, you will definitely be touched!**

**And as always, let me know what you think. This story is sad and dark so far, but often those are the ones that connect with us the most. **


	5. The Letter

_**I suppose compared to my four chapters in around 2 days, this is a pretty late update, but I was having trouble deciding which direction I wanted to go in. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know. **_

_**And as a side note, how is Brodsky spelled? Broadsky? Let me know… I hate spelling errors more than anything.**_

_**Thanks for all of the Story and Favorites adds, and of course the comments – feel free to leave more.**_

_**And I promise Booth won't be a jerk forever. But he's a man, and we know that happens **_**occasionally**_** ;) Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Day 2<em>**

Angela climbed into bed, exhausted. The day had nearly been too much for her to handle. She rolled over with a huff, adjusting herself to be as close to her husband as possible while still trying not to crush him. She was so ready for this baby to make its way into the world and out of her way. She finally gave up and lay flat on her back.

Hodgins rolled over towards her. "What's up mama?" he asked groggily.

"I'm huge and I can't get comfortable. This bowling ball on my abdomen is getting very difficult to make happy." She placed her hands on her swollen belly, silently apologizing for being annoyed with the little he or she inside.

"No, I mean why you're here so late." He placed a hand over Angela's on her belly. "Was Dr. B okay?"

Angela loved this about Jack. He somehow still found her attractive with her extra addition and always knew what was really getting at her. "I think she's going to leave us again."

The words, although discussed for hours on end at Brennan's apartment before her arrival at home, were actually meaning something now that she was not with her best friend. Brennan explained the events of the previous days in depth, allowing Angela to pick them apart and analyze them. She had never heard of Booth being so pissed – at least since he flew to New Orleans against Brennan's wishes.

With this admission, Hodgins opened his eyes and sat up. "Again?" he asked, incredulously. Hodgins would be the first to admit that he was a brilliant man. His expertise in his fields made him indispensible to the Jeffersonian. However, without Dr. Brennan to draw the difficult cases in from the FBI, his job would be much less interesting. Again.

"What did Booth do this time?" It was a common fact in the Jeffersonian lab that Booth and Brennan belonged together. Typically Dr. Brennan's breakdowns either involved or more likely revolved around Booth.

"He basically told her their partnership is over." Angela stared at the ceiling. "Remember how I told you something strange was going on with Bren? She kept making these… these long phone calls to doctors. Talking about cancer and all kinds of things. Well, it wasn't about her. It was about Parker Booth."

Hodgins looked down at his wife in disbelief. She explained the rest of the story that Brennan told her, crying as she went. Hodgins kept one hand on Angela's belly and one smoothing her hair and occasionally wiping away tears. "I just want her to be happy, Jack! She has grown so much and… and now it's like she's set back a thousand years!"

"For Dr. B, a thousand years isn't so long," Hodgins joked. He flashed a sweet smile at Angela, receiving one back. "Angie, she'll be fine. She just needs to escape a little, and Booth needs to chill out."

"He has a right to freak out!" Angela's tone became more motherly. "His only son is going through a horrible disease and no one told him. It doesn't mean he needs to yell at Bren, but…"

"But he's just Booth. He's protective of everyone around him. He lets his emotions get the best of him sometimes. Okay, all the time. This will all blow over, I'm sure."

Angela simply nodded, nuzzling into Hodgins' side, falling asleep to the comfort of his touch.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 3<strong>_

Brennan couldn't figure out what to write.

How exactly does one go about telling their partner that the partnership is over?

How do you tell someone you're running away from them without making them feel guilty?

Most importantly, how do you tell someone you've fallen for and has fallen for you in the past that you may never see them again?

_Booth, I found that it was in your best interest to…_

It felt like a report. Like she had to explain her methods to validate her findings.

_Booth, I want you to know that I am here to help with all of Parker's future…_

Would bringing it up again just make him more upset?

_Booth, We have been partners for almost 6 years now, but…_

Brennan kept trying to make the words on the screen make sense. But they couldn't. There was no logical way of explaining what had happened between them. She knew she had done the right thing, not distracting Booth from tracking Brodsky. After all, she and Rebecca and the pediatric oncologists had it covered. Cam had even helped out. But this letter she was trying to write just didn't make sense to write. Logically.

Brennan heard the first call for her flight. Being in first class had its advantages, but not when it came to boarding first when needing to send a private e-mail at the last minute. She quickly typed the first thing she could come up with, looked the message over, pressed send, and shut the computer.

It would just have to be good enough.

_She _hadn't been good enough. In some way or another, she hadn't been what Booth needed. She hadn't been what he needed outside of the Hoover the night they told Sweets about their first case. She hadn't been what he needed when he came back from Afghanistan with a beautiful girlfriend. She hadn't been what he needed when she confessed her feelings after he prevented her from being run over by a car in the rain. Now, she wasn't what he needed at all – as a partner, friend, or anything more.

Brennan boarded the plane, fielding a few glances from her fellow passengers and the flight attendants. She chalked the looks up to her fame and the fact that her eyes were red and puffy. She secretly hoped that they would assume it was an allergic reaction.

She was headed to Turkey to identify remains found at a site believed to have been a Roman colony. The trip was less dangerous than her usual dig, but she knew that the feeling of being unsafe would only lead her to think about him more. If she told him, he would have laughed and told her she was smart for going somewhere where she wasn't going to get shot at every two seconds.

She remembered when she told Booth about being kidnapped in El Salvador.

She remembered when Booth told her about his time as a sniper.

She remembered when Booth told her that her mother's remains had been found.

She remembered when he was injured by a bomb that was meant for her.

She remembered being scared when Booth went into brain surgery.

She remembered when he took a bullet for her.

She remembered it all. As her plane got closer to its final destination, the memories flooded in. Although painful, she allowed them, knowing that she would most likely get to make another memory like that again. She allowed her heart to take over – even though she knew that her heart did not produce her emotions. She let her emotions get the best of her.

She remembered _his _heart.


	6. The Unrest

**_Day 17 (two weeks later)_**

His heart was heavy.

It had been two weeks since he had taken a leave of absence from the FBI.

It had been two weeks since he found out about Parker's condition.

It had been two weeks since he fought with... her.

The weeks felt like a lifetime. Booth's days were filled with waiting. Waiting in doctors' offices. Waiting for Parker to wake up from his many naps. Waiting for Rebecca to come pick Parker up. Waiting for a call about a new case. Waiting for someone from the Jeffersonian to call and check up on him. Especially someone in particular.

Today, Booth filled his time by sleeping. He had almost no energy to do anything else - Parker had been up the whole night before vomiting from his chemotherapy. Parker's treatments started before Booth even knew about the cancer, and it was finally catching up with him. Booth resigned himself to sleeping in Parker's room now in case he needed something. This usually meant Booth adjusting his large frame to sleep across Parker's soccer ball and baseball beanbag chairs. He decided quickly after learning about Parker that he would probably be choosing convenience over comfort for a while.

Unfortunately, sleeping was a loose term. Booth spent many hours staring at the ceiling, thinking. Things had changed so quickly from the way they were a week before. At the Bureau, he was a revered presence; he was 'the man.' There wasn't a case that he couldn't close. Now he got sympathetic looks, cards, and whispers as he walked through the office. He barely went out to eat anymore - these days he generally made grilled cheese, spaghetti, and in Parker's case, Saltines and ginger ale. He missed the pie at the diner and having his meal picked for him at Wong Fu's. He hadn't even really seen any of his friends - his friends were all at the Jeffersonian. He forgot how they really were his people. He had forgotten how lonely he was before working with the Jeffersonian. Typically most of the hours of his days were spent with someone else - be that person a squint, another agent, suspects brought in for questioning, or his partner.

He couldn't fool himself. It was his partner he really missed. The common factor in all the places and people he was away from was her. He had gotten used to having someone to joke with and to bounce ideas off of. Hell, someone talking to him would be nice. He felt like the only people he talked to were Rebecca and doctors. Too many doctors. Parker thankfully thought of it as a game to try to remember all of the names of his doctors and not as something scary. His attitude towards medical doctors did not line up with his dad's apprehension of them.

This thought process was always difficult for Booth to escape. He knew that by simply picking up the phone and calling her, he could apologize and she would tell him that she knew that his decision to be mad at him was rational and they could go on with their partnership and lives. She could hang out with he and Parker, and Booth could help her with cases from home - somehow. He tried to justify any and all reasons to contact her... but he couldn't figure out how to. He hadn't forgotten how to dial her number - he just didn't know how to start the conversation. Booth knew she certainly wouldn't start it. She typically let him just be mad, knowing it would blow over in a few days.

The strange thing was, he wasn't even mad. In fact, in spending so much time with Parker, he almost _understood _Brennan and Rebecca's decision not to tell him. After all, he was in Virginia camping out, trying to track down a killer. Booth laughed to himself. The day he fought with Brennan, he was originally upset with her because she called him stupid. _Compared to her I am._ Then he was mad because she brought Hannah up. _They were friends - she saw a connection in the case and it came up. I'm over her anyway. _ She postponed her trip and her safety to make sure his son was not suffering from anything more serious. _But he was, and she caught it in time._

Slowly, as Booth thought about the real reasons he hadn't talked to his partner, he realized that there was no reason why he couldn't just call her. After all, he was a man who set his mind on justice. On making things right and making amends. His entire FBI career had been based on making up for the lives he took as a sniper. He wanted to make it right. There was after all a point in time that he told her he was in love with her. He would have done anything to make it work between them. Even if that meant waiting for her to open herself up to him and just trust him. _What have I done? _He thought. _How is she ever going to trust me if I shut her out too? _This woman that he shared his most personal life with. This woman who understood where he came from and where he intended to go, regardless of her personal beliefs. This woman he risked his life for on many occasions and had risked her life for him was just a phone call away. He decided that this was the end of his non-communication with his partner.

Booth lifted himself from the beanbags with an _oooph. _His bones crackled as he walked to his bedroom to get his cell. _I need to get Bones to work some magic on my back, _he thought with a smile.

When he found his phone, he was surprised to find that he had several missed calls. One from Rebecca, two from Camille, and one from Angela. He thought it to be strange that Camille and Angela called, but surely it was for the same reason. Rebecca left a message to let Booth know she'd be by to pick Parker up around four. He checked his watch. _3:47. Perfect. I'll call Bones, we'll just go to Wong Fu's and I'll apologize and it will all be fine. _Booth was feeling better rapidly. Booth shot a quick text to Rebecca confirming the time and proceeded to call Brennan.

Booth sat on the couch and waited as the phone rang. He tapped his foot on the ground nervously. Finally, he heard a click and a familiar voice on the line.

"I thought you'd never call, Seeley."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sincerest apologies for the delay in the update. Although there are only a few of you reading this, I appreciate each and every one of you for your readership. I will be working on another chapter today and will hopefully have it up before midnight EST. Thanks to <strong>SuperK4141 **and **SouthunLady **for your constant comments (okay, two). I look forward to reading more reviews as I continue to write - and from the rest of you as well! Thanks! -eleyezeeaye**


	7. The Call

_**AN: Hey guys... I know I've been skipping around... I've decided to date the chapters so that it is easier to understand - Hopefully this will help with the confusion. Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 7<strong>_

Brennan rolled out of bed earlier this morning than usual. Her dig was going less successfully than she had hoped. She walked from her tent tiredly towards the mess tent for a cup of much-needed coffee. She hadn't really gotten a good night of sleep since before Brodsky went under the radar, and this second trip to Turkey wasn't exactly calming her nerves. She found her sleep interrupted by strange dreams. She almost wished she could ask Sweets what they meant – more for a good laugh than for factual content.

Brennan poured a cup of coffee, black, and walked back to her tent, eager to get the workday started and perhaps salvage what had so far been a fruitless endeavor. She was interrupted shortly before reaching her tent by one of the archaeologists on her team. "Dr. Brennan!" The woman that called her name was a small, beautiful woman from the University of Tokyo. "Good Morning, Kiri." Brennan responded, desperately hoping that her colleague's greeting was just that and not an invitation to converse.

"Dr. Brennan, I found something in the second site that I think you might find to be fascinating. If you will just follow me…" "Kiri, I will come see what you have to show me when I get dressed. I do not care to be in the presence of the most brilliant minds in the world of anthropology in my sleep clothes." Kiri giggled. "Yes of course, Dr. Brennan. I will see you there." Kiri bowed; Brennan followed in suit, excusing herself to get dressed. Kiri, although brilliant, was becoming more and more a reminder of a certain female intern that Brennan spent an extended amount of time with in Maluku.

Brennan made her way to the examination tent. Kiri wasted no time in showing the doctor what she found. "This portion of the pelvis was found in site two with this," Kiri held up a fractured vase. Brennan stepped between the archaeologist and the table the pelvis sat on. "Ms. Sato, I am more interested in the human remains than the artifact you found, despite its historical significance." With that, Kiri looked disappointed, but knowing Dr. Brennan's propensity for being blunt, did not take it personally.

From the other end of the makeshift lab, the pair heard a phone ring. Knowing Brennan was in the middle of waiting for the bones to 'speak to her,' Kiri decided to get the phone herself. She jogged across the room and picked the phone up, only to see a DC area code on the screen. "DR. BRENNAN!" she squealed. "IT IS FOR YOU!" Brennan considered ignoring the shrill exclamation, but knew that this call could be important.

Brennan removed her gloves, and briskly walked to the phone. Anxiously, she answered.

"This is Dr. Temperance Brennan?" she noted that it was irritating that even amongst some of the most advanced technology in the world, they could not seem to figure out a way to implement caller identification.

"Tempe. It's me, Russ."

Brennan hesitated acknowledging the voice on the other end of the line. From experience, her brother only really showed up when he was in trouble. "Hello Russ," was all she could manage, dreading the way the conversation would probably go.

"Tempe, you need to come home. Dad needs you. He was arrested and we need you to do your magic and get him out of here."

"Russ," she paused, more out of apathy than shock, "if Dad is in jail again, then he probably deserves it."

"C'mon Tempe, isn't family more important than a bunch of really old dead people? Dad needs you, and you're the brains in the family. There's nothing I can do for him. We need you."

With that, a spark was set off in the doctor's mind. She was needed. Her brother was actively asking for her help. Brennan's sense of self-importance had been shaken. She knew she was a beautiful, intelligent, and generous person. Lately, those things didn't seem to matter because she had no one of importance to share them with. Brennan agreed to leave the next morning from Turkey, which was met with many thanks and words of affection from her estranged but adored brother.

* * *

><p>Brennan woke up to a flight attendant's hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Brennan, we'll be landing shortly." The young blonde smiled at Brennan, obviously more excited about getting to talk to the famous author than concerned about warning her about the impending landing.<p>

"Dr. Brennan," she corrected.

"Yes, of course Dr. Brennan." The girl could not avoid the smile that covered her round face despite being corrected. She turned on her heel and walked briskly to the attendants' seating area where she proceeded to giggle with her fellow stewardesses.

Brennan never did understand why her fame was such a cause of childish behavior. Childish only because of the giddy joy and loss of ability to speak that typically accompanied the dropped jaws she caused when she was recognized in public. Angela was initially fascinated with the fame that Brennan had acquired from her novels, but soon realized that being the best friend of a drop-dead-gorgeous celebrity wasn't always private. On lunches, Angela would often offer a snarky comment to those she caught gawking. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," and "You'll catch flies if you don't close your mouth," were two of her favorites. Seeing peoples' embarrassment at being caught staring always brought her satisfaction, Brennan thought.

She looked out the window, seeing the specks out the window become houses, buildings, pools, and cars. She thought about her friends. The last time she left, the team had fallen apart. The 'Squint Squad' had been spread to the ends of the earth and Cam was left to fend for herself. Brennan's decision to stay in Maluku after solving the case was for the best of the team. Now she was concerned that with Booth no longer involved, the team itself would be dissolved. Would the FBI give Brennan another partner? Would the Jeffersonian end its partnership with the Bureau altogether? Brennan knew that without the FBI, there would be no more murders to investigate, no clues to decipher, no reason to keep the Medico-Legal Lab in operation.

The thought of starting all over again was worrisome to Brennan. Her thoughts were only interrupted by the captain's voice over the speaker declaring that they had reached Washington Dulles and could begin to depart from the plane. Brennan quickly unbuckled and exited the plane, bags in hand, eager to distract herself from her own irrational thoughts. She charged through the terminal, finally reaching the baggage claim where she was surprised to see not only her brother, but her father as well.

"Dad… what are you… " Brennan couldn't understand why she was in the same place, "I thought you were arrested!" Brennan gritted her teeth. She had a feeling that she was brought home under false pretenses.

"We had to get you home somehow, Tempe. Dad didn't ever actually get arrested. We just weren't sure we'd ever see you again unless something happened here to bring you home." Russ was nearly pleading that she not punch both of them for lying to her like she appeared to be gearing up for.

"It's good to see you!" Max shot Brennan a large smile to let her know how glad he truly was, even though Brennan heard a quiver in his voice that came across as pity. He held his arms open wide and moved towards her. Brennan allowed him to put his arms around her, but she refused to return the hug initially.

She took it all in empirically. She noted the familiar smell of her father's jacket. She saw her brother looking on, smiling. She felt the warmth of her father's arms. She heard her father's greeting echo in her head, although she knew it was just a product of her memory 'replaying' what he just said. She allowed these tangible things sink in and realized she had chosen correctly.

Over the last 6 years, she had changed drastically. Her strictly factual, empiricist mindset had been shaken to its core by a man who relied almost exclusively on his metaphorical heart. A notion. A whim. A gut feeling. She argued the irrationality of his methods many times, yet always fell short when his ability to read people and jump to conclusions paid off.

She released the grip she returned to her father and gestured towards the belts to wait for her bags. As she stood waiting, she considered the possibility that she had been wrong all along. Had she been completely wrong in thinking that Booth's way was foolish? Or had they both been wrong?

It occurred to her suddenly that they were both right.

But only when they were together. Joining their skills to create an unstoppable force.

A force that she realized may never reach its full potential.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thanks for your patience - I have been busy this week, but knew I had to update sometime... let me know how you like it!<em>**


	8. The Fall

_**Day 17**_

"I thought you'd never call, Seeley."

This was definitely not the voice Booth was expecting to hear. "Max?" Booth questioned.

"You got me. What do you need, son?"

"I'm trying to get… Bones. Why do you have her phone?" Booth adjusted himself to the edge of the couch, becoming nervous about the answer that was coming.

"She's staying with me right now and went running. You know Tempe, personal time is personal time. No cell phone." Max laughed. 'You know Tempe' was not something he could say a few years ago.

"Then do you know when she'll be back?" Booth was less entertained by this reference to Brennan's personality. He just wanted to talk to her.

"I think she's running an 8 mile loop. She should be back within the hour." Max's voice couldn't hide that he was elated to hear Booth inquiring about his daughter. _It's about time you get your ass over here and figure this out, _Max thought.

"Oh alright. Thanks Max." Booth didn't wait for a response. He closed his phone and sat back on the sofa. _ At least I know where she is now. Now I just have to wait to call her back. _Booth's train of thought was interrupted when he heard a knock on the door. Booth grabbed a shirt from the pile of unfolded laundry on his kitchen table and pulled it over his head. He looked through the peephole and saw that it was Rebecca. He opened the door and invited her inside.

"Sorry I'm early," she apologized, "I was just down the street when I texted you…"

"It's fine. He's asleep; I'll get him for you." Booth turned and walked to Parker's room. Parker's fuzzy blonde hair was covering his eyes. Booth took a mental picture and silently congratulated himself for being partly responsible for such an adorable child.

He gently moved the hair from Parker's eyes and spoke, "Hey, Parks, your mom is here. You gotta wake up now." Parker opened his eyes slowly and groaned. "You can sleep some more when you get to your mom's, okay?" He lifted Parker out of the bed and carried him to Rebecca. Kissing him on the forehead, he transferred him to stand on the floor. Booth grabbed Parker's bookbag, now full of medicines and doctors' notes.

"I'll see you soon, alright, Bud?" Booth crouched down to be at eye level with his son.

"Yeah Dad. Can we can have grilled cheese if I'm not too sick?"

_Just like his old man,_ Booth thought. "Of course." He planted another kiss on the top of Parker's head and walked the pair to the door. Rebecca offered him a mouthed _Thank you. _He waved and closed the door. Goodbyes were getting too hard.

With that, he remembered that Rebecca was not the only missed call he had. Booth opened his phone and found Angela's number. He was surprised to hear the phone picked up after barely one ring.

"BOOTH!"

"Hodgins? Doesn't anyone answer their own phone anymore?" Booth's curiosity was overshadowed by his irritation.

"ANGELA IS HAVING THE BABY AS WE SPEAK. WHERE THE HELL IS BRENNAN?" Hodgins voice cracked. Booth remembered the panic he felt when Rebecca had Parker. The feeling of unease mixed with the terror of being unprepared.

"I'll find her. Just – just calm down." Booth closed the phone and made his way to his bedroom to get dressed. _Surely she will understand if I just show up_. He threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and grabbed a jacket. It didn't matter what she thought. _I'm her partner. This is what we do._

* * *

><p>"Agh!"<p>

Brennan's face hit the pavement.

She pushed herself up by her arms and looked down at her hands. They were bloody, the skin peeled off from her sudden contact with the ground. She pushed herself to sit on the grass and noticed the blood dripping from her head. Her knees were completely skinned and were also bleeding profusely.

_Not again, _she thought. She pulled her sweatshirt from around her waist off and started to wipe the blood. This was the second time this week she fell while running. Her usual route was off limits, as she did not want to be recognized. She was constrained to running in her dad's neighborhood while she stayed with him and Russ. This time the fall was caused by a comically small twig, one which Brennan noted was no longer than the humerus.

_I'm just distracted, _she justified. It was only this morning that she even told Angela she was back in town, before making her swear the knowledge to secrecy. Angela's first response was naturally prodding : _'Have you told Booth yet?' _

She hadn't. And it was bothering her.

Brennan stood and started walking in the direction of Max's house. Brennan couldn't focus on anything. Her ability to compartmentalize had been seriously compromised in the last two and a half weeks. It was incredibly frustrating to her.

She based her entire life on her observations – only things she could see and touch and prove. In the growth she experienced in the last year, she found herself thinking more about how she and the others around her felt. Since the Logan Bartlett case, she found that her happiness revolved less around her own satisfaction and more on that of her friends. She thought of Angela glowing talking about the nursery mural she was planning, Hodgins discovering a new slime he knew nothing about, Cam getting a call from Paul, Sweets finding satisfaction in playing piano at the karaoke bar, the list went on. She was happier when 'her people' were happier.

Brennan turned the corner onto her father's road. She switched her mind back to her injuries, assessing if any of them needed stitches and wondering if Max had the materials she would need to clean it all up on her own. She shook her head and laughed to herself at her own clumsiness. As she raised her head to look down the road, she saw the house. However, something else caught her eye that stopped her heart and feet in their tracks.

There he was, getting out of his SUV and walking towards her. If Brennan didn't know any better, she would have thought it was a mirage. She stood there, unmoving, staring at the man now running towards her.

"Bones, what the hell happened to you?" He looked over her body. Blood was dried on her hands, legs, and her head. He reached out and grabbed her arm, turning it over to see the damage. Brennan remained quiet, still unable to process the fact that this man was actually in front of her.

Booth looked up at her face and tilted her chin up to look her in the eye. "Bones, seriously. Talk to me. What happened?" Booth's face was pained. He didn't like to see her hurt, and especially didn't like the thought that someone might have done this to her.

Brennan looked into his brown eyes and lost it. She started crying and pulled herself from his hands, turning away. She lifted her hands to cover her face. "I fell."

Booth relaxed only slightly. "So no one did this to you?" He hated that his first assumption was that anyone would want to harm her, but his line of work and history with Brennan warranted this thought to be perfectly plausible. Brennan shook her head in response. Booth saw her shoulders shudder slightly with the sobs she was trying so hard to cover. Booth stepped towards her and roughly pulled her to his chest. He squeezed her tight and held her neck and head on his chest with his hand.

"Shhh, you're fine. It's not even as bad as it looks," he calmly asserted. Brennan pulled away from his chest slightly and spoke. "I didn't think you ever wanted to see me again." With this admission, the sobs returned, welcomed with another squeeze from Booth.

The guilt went on thick as it always did with Booth. "Bones, you know me. I get mad and I do stupid things like shoot clowns and threaten people. But I would never leave you. We're partners. I won't ever say what I did again. I didn't mean it. You got that?"

Brennan nodded, now wiping tears from her face. Booth released her from his arms and looked at her with a trademark smile. He clapped his hands together, causing Brennan to jump. "But we gotta go now, Bones. Baby Hodgins is making an appearance as we speak!" Brennan's face lit up. "I knew you'd like that. Now chop chop! Auntie Bones needs to be there."

Booth ushered her to the car with his hand on her back. _It's about time, _he thought.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Yessssss, a night in shining armor. I just love Booth. Thanks for reading! As always, please review if you can! I like positive comments and constructive criticism, so bring it on! :)<em>**


	9. The Comparison

_**Day 17**_

"Here, Bones," Booth reached behind the passenger seat and grabbed a towel from his gym bag, "wipe some of that stuff off. We'll get you actual medical attention when we get to the hospital."

Brennan didn't try to speak. She didn't understand why he was being like this now. He handed her the towel and she simply held it in her hands, staring at it as if she was trying to gather some deeper meaning to the gesture.

"It's clean, Bones, if that's what you're thinking." Booth glanced from Brennan to the road and back. He felt the awkwardness soaking in. He knew she probably didn't even notice. Silence was something she found peaceful, not awkward. He turned on the siren and sped, eager to end the silence and this ride quicker.

"So, how've ya been?" He glanced at her again, this time trying to determine her mood. She remained still, staring at the towel still clenched in her hands. He studied her body language again and brought his eyes to her face. Expressionless, she had him stumped. _I know it's been a while, _he thought, _but not long enough to lose my touch. _

"Bones, really, are you okay?" he reached a hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her arm. Immediately, she pulled away towards the window and glared at Booth.

"No! I'm not okay!" she snapped. "You left me. You told me that you didn't know why our partnership would last. You blatantly implied that our partnership was over!"

Booth finally read her. She was furious.

"Bones, I explained that. I…"

"No!" Her voice became terse. "You can't tell me you meant something different! You said you couldn't trust me. You relegated me to the level at which you hold your ex-girlfriend who refused to marry you!"

This hit a nerve for Booth. "See here, you just bring Rebecca up just to piss me off. I never said you were like Rebecca, you two just holed up with your precious diagnosis and didn't tell me."

"It was not a conspiracy. The decision was made for everyone's safety. With Brodsky hunting you, you would have been at greater risk for danger if Brodsky could find you back here in D.C."

"That's not the point, agh!" Booth slammed his hand on the dashboard in frustration. "You know how I am about Parker. Remember when we had to go to the carousel at the park? I can't have him taken away from me. I have to be a better dad to him…" he trailed off.

The pair stayed silent for another minute until Brennan filled in the gap, "Than _your_ father?"

"We're not talking about this."

"But that is what you were intending to say. I believe that your protectiveness is a weakness of yours, Booth." Booth glared at Brennan. He hated her using psychology on him more than she hated psychology.

She continued, "Because your father didn't protect you, rather, the opposite, caused you to need protecting, you feel that you must overcompensate when it comes to Parker to ensure you don't follow your father's modus operandi. You do the same with all of the people that are around you. "

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. _Like all the times I've threatened to kill someone that harmed you. Your dad, Thomas Vega, McVicar, Ramon Ortez… _Booth recalled. "That's what I do, Bones. I protect people. Otherwise I wouldn't need a gun."

"Two guns." she corrected, pointing to his feet. "Regardless of the firepower you possess, you can't dispute the fact that you tend to err on the side of anger. You were very rude to me and I don't believe I forgive you, especially if you are still mad at me for trying to protect all of us."

"That's your problem if you decide not to forgive me, but I'm not going anywhere." Booth's tone changed and he quickly added, "And why would I come pick you up if I were still mad at you?"

"Most likely because you are experiencing guilt." Brennan flatly responded. She had her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah, of course I feel guilty, Bones. I said some pretty rough stuff to you and didn't hear from you for two weeks. I thought you hated me." He gestured towards her with his hand. "Now that, I would understand." Booth sighed. He turned into the hospital's parking lot and stopped the siren.

Not a second after he put the vehicle in park, Brennan jumped out and slammed the door behind her. Booth followed suit, jogging to catch her in her brisk pace.

* * *

><p>The waiting room was full of family members waiting for their daughters, sisters, granddaughters, and friends to give birth. The room was aglow with talk of diapers, nurseries and lost sleep. Except for one corner.<p>

In the corner sat Cam, Sweets, Wendell, Daisy, Booth and Brennan. The team could sense the tension between Booth and Brennan, but no one felt brave enough to open the metaphorical 'can of worms.'

"Great." Booth sarcastically groaned, lifting himself from his chair. "I'm going to get myself some coffee. Any of you squints want anything?"

"Coffee for me," Cam answered. The rest of the group simply shook their heads. As Booth turned to find the cafeteria, Sweets spoke up.

"I'll come with you." He quickly jumped out of his chair and followed Booth down the hallway.

The pair remained quiet until they reached the closed doors of the cafeteria. "Damn." Booth kicked the door and turned back towards Sweets. He put his head down and his hands on his hips. "What else…" he muttered.

"There's a machine down the hall they just installed. C'mon." Sweets led the way, hands in his pockets.

Booth followed, releasing a small chuckle. "So now you're the caffeine psychic? Can you sense where the closest Starbucks is?" Booth laughed at his own joke. _Making fun of Sweets never gets old. _

"I just spent some time here with an agent while you were in Virginia doing some trauma counseling. Lots of coffee required." Sweets shook his head at the attempt at a joke.

"Yeah. Makes sense. Well hey – uh, you couldn't have just wanted to come help me get two cups of coffee. When are you going to try to shrink me about Bones and I?" Booth talked to the back of Sweets' head as they continued to walk.

Looking over his shoulder, Sweets responded. "I wasn't going to. I'm not sure what to make of you two not talking at all. Bickering, I can deal with. Silence, eh, I'm not comfortable asking until I assess it myself." Sweets added with a smile, "you're welcome to talk about it if you'd like."

"No way, no how, Sweets. Not as a shrink at least." Booth put his head down.

As they reached the vending machines, Sweets turned back to Booth with an ear-to-ear grin. "So, as friends. You're willing to talk to me as friends?"

"Don't get too excited, Smiley Boy. If you're going to talk about how I'm all vulnerable and sensitive and blah blah gobbledygook, then I'll just forget I ever said…"

"No, no," Sweets assured, "strictly guy-to-guy. I'm Lance, not Dr. Sweets. Shoot."

"As a friend, I'll tell you your name is goofy. Lance." Booth scoffed at the sound of it.

"Your name is Seeley…" he stopped mid-thought when he met Booth's glare. "Go ahead."

"It's all this stuff with Parker. I'm sure you know from Angela or Hodgins?" Sweets nodded. "Well she knew the whole time we were apart. She didn't tell me. But I got over it. Park's doing better, Rebecca explained things to me, whatever. Then I go to see her today when Hodgins called about the baby and she freaks out on me. Says I ruined her life, I don't trust her. Even after I apologized. She's never stayed mad at me this long. It's just not like Bones."

Sweets was almost bursting with questions and observations. "First of all, I doubt Dr. Brennan would be irrational enough to think you ruined her life. Don't you agree that she has become more emotionally driven than she was when you started your partnership?"

"Hah, more, but not a lot." Booth thought about the ways she had opened up.

"I think she's just retreating. She's been a dependable person her entire life. You have been a dependable person for her, and you said you can't trust her. She's questioning everything she's believed about trustworthiness. You have to earn that back."

"It's not like I didn't apologize to her. She is just stubborn and won't talk to me now." Booth started walking back towards the waiting room with the cups of coffee.

"But she won't understand that. You see, Dr. Brennan is used to certain patterns. She bases her foundational beliefs on tried and true values. She knew that you were a person to be trusted. A person she could trust with information without fear of being exposed, her life without danger, and her love without discrimination. When you told her that your partnership was over, that trust and protection disappeared. That scared her to run away."

"She didn't exactly run away." Booth turned his body towards him. "She got in my car when I went to pick her up."

Sweets laughed incredulously, "Yeah, and you think that flying out to Turkey with barely even a mention to her best friend isn't escaping?" Booth's brow furrowed. "Angela was a mess. She was sure she'd never see Dr. Brennan again."

Booth stopped in his tracks outside of the waiting room. _This is just a threat. He's trying to make it sound worse than it was. _"She went back to Turkey? Wh- when was…" He didn't want Sweets to see what he was really thinking. "She always comes back. Malapuku, remember?"

"Maluku. And you can't even use that as a comparison. She planned on coming back after a year, and returned only when she found out that Dr. Saroyan's job was in danger. If Angela, the prototypical 'wild child' was concerned about Dr. Brennan coming back, then we know it was for good reason."

"Yeah, hormones," Booth joked. He believed him. Angela wasn't the type to get worried over Brennan unless she _really _thought that there was something wrong. Booth peeked his head around the corner into the waiting room. He gazed at Brennan. It was incredible that Sweets was even talking about this. Years ago when their partnership began, Booth could have sworn that Brennan had no emotions whatsoever. Now they were all over the place.

"Just think about it, man. You and I both know that for some reason, you're meant to be together in some capacity. You're both better for it."

"Here, take this to Cam." Booth handed one of the cups in his hands to Sweets and walked away from the waiting room.

_I just need time to think._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm not going to lie, I just got lazy in updating. Please don't hate me. Also, don't hate me if you're the type that likes the story to progress a little faster. I like to dive into every detail... obviously. <strong>

**PLEASE review - it's the best way for me to improve! Thanks to Mezzo187 for the question and thanks to alexindigo for the constructive criticism!**

**And as always, thank you for reading. Working on another chapter tonight - keep your fingers crossed!**


	10. The Awakening

_**Day 18**_

She couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts.

Everything was so different than it used to be.

Brennan got out of her bed and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. This day would be drastically different than six years ago. Different than one year ago. Different than even last week or yesterday.

_Angela and Hodgins are married with a baby. Vincent Nigel-Murray is dead. My father is alive. Parker has cancer. I'm a bestselling author. Booth and I aren't partners. My parents abandoned me out of love? I'm virtually alone. _The thoughts swirled around in her head. It felt like one of her cases, with all of the facts about the victim floating around until she fit them together with an identity and a killer to make them make sense.

But somehow, her pieces didn't make sense. They were all facts, but somehow they didn't fit together. How was _this_ her life? When did she go from being a dedicated forensic anthropologist to _this_? _Basing my demeanor and my attitude on my emotions… this is not a reasonable way for an intelligent woman to conduct herself. _

She tried her best to compartmentalize, but now she found that the pain was devouring her from the inside out.

* * *

><p>Booth woke up late.<p>

After leaving the hospital, he went to his apartment and nursed a few beers and went straight to sleep. This morning, his back was killing him. He needed an adjustment. Just another reminder that he screwed up and there were consequences.

Booth slowly rose from bed and shuffled to the kitchen. No pain could keep him from eating. The vigil at the hospital the night before made him ravenous that morning. The fridge was nearly empty besides ginger ale, some eggs, and jelly. He decided the best choice might just be to go out before work.

After catching a quick meal from the diner – yet another reminder – he arrived at the Hoover for the first time in weeks. The time off to take care of Parker was good, but now distractions were necessary and welcome. He was eager to start another case and adding another tally to his cosmic balance sheet.

Unfortunately, his co-workers didn't get the memo.

Word spread quickly through the large building that the brilliant team split up. Some whispered about how unbelievable it was that their chemistry was ruined; others were angry that the partners with the highest solve rate were so selfish as to split up. Others showed pity and pain for the man.

Booth walked through the building, realizing that every detail stuck out to him. In the past, the bullpen was just a blur on the way to his office or the conference room. Now it seemed as if every lingering glare and distant whisper was a neon light, flashing warning signs in Booth's face.

He made it into his office and shut the door. He dared not look out of the glass again at the other agents. It only made him feel weaker and less in control than he already did.

Booth silently swore as he sat down at his desk, remembering his dinosaur of a computer. He turned it on and it whirred to life.

Booth waited for the ancient machine to load. He looked around his office, which seemed to be cloaked in a metaphorical coat of dust. It seemed like a different world than the last time he was there. It seemed dimmer, less hopeful than it used to be.

His blank stare at the room was broken only by footsteps and the sound of his door opening. Booth snapped out of his trance and greeted his guest less than enthusiastically with a grunt.

"Agent Booth," Sweets began, "how's it going?" Sweets stopped a few feet from the desk with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

"Agent? Since when am I Agent again?" Booth's eyes remained on the computer screen as he entered his password to enter the system.

"Since I'm here as Dr. Sweets."

Booth looked up, eyes narrowed. "What is this? They're sending you in here to mess with my brain and make sure I'm functioning for duty or something? I'm fine Sweets, really…" he trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh.

"Actually, that's exactly why I'm here. But we can talk as friends if you'd like." Sweets held his hand out in gesture.

"Ha, no, no Sweets. You gotta choose. One or the other. At least you have to choose when you're comin' in here." Booth continued to look at the computer screen, clicking away at the e-mails he neglected to check in the past weeks.

"Agent Booth, surely we can be friends _outside _the office and colleagues _in _the office. I have to oversee…" Sweets defended.

"Well I guess you've chosen, _Doctor Sweets._ So get on with it, what do you want?"

"It's been recommended that you be assessed for your fitness to come back to duty. You've been through quite a bit of emotional trauma recently…"

Booth interrupted. "I've been stressed out, alright Sweets? I'm not sitting here crying am I? Now who you need to check is Richardson down the hall, he's been eating expired yogurt from the fridge I hear." Booth smirked, pleased with himself to shut down the adolescent-like doctor.

"Agent Booth, you can't just interrupt me. If I don't clear you for duty, they'll take your gun until I tell them otherwise. Just cooperate and we'll figure this out."

"Ya'know what, Sweets, I liked you better when you…" he trailed off. Something on the lit screen caught his attention.

"When I what?" Sweets inquired. "Agent Booth, what is it, what are you staring at?"

In Booth's inbox was an unread e-mail. He hadn't clicked on the line – he felt paralyzed by it. She sent it the day after he found out about Parker's condition.

Sweets made his way around Booth's desk to look at the screen. His eyes immediately dropped to the Sender column where 'Bones' was listed. The subject line was empty.

"Oh. Uh, Booth?" Sweets looked to the agent's face and back to the computer. "Are you going to read it?"

Booth's answer was evident when he clicked the link. A new window popped up and the words of his former partner came onto the screen.

_Booth, _

_I know that you are angry with me and that you are disappointed I would be so secretive about something that I am aware is significant in your life. I am not going to say I am sorry for keeping it from you, rather, that I did not know of a better solution to letting you know. Please accept my apology in my absence, as I will be out of the country for an indefinite period. I hope that we will be able to converse as colleagues again, but if we cannot, know that I do care for you and will miss being by your side. _

_Love, _

_Brennan_

Booth buried his face in his hands. If the guilt didn't kill him now, he didn't know what would. It felt like a theme in his life – he protected others and what he got in return was a load of guilt. He was an excellent protector with the marksmanship and support system to prove it, but he was an even better martyr.

"Booth…" Sweets started, anticipating interruption. When he found no response, he went on.

"Had you not seen this before?" Booth barely shook his head.

"How are you feeling?" He took a chance on a question that typically elicited a threat from the agent.

Booth simply shrugged.

"Can I tell you what I think about it?" Sweets ventured, still hesitant.

Another shrug.

"I believe you and Dr. Brennan never really dealt with everything that happened between you. You, confessing you loved her after we talked about my book; her, confessing her regret over not trying. It's a door that you never closed. It's like it's letting in a draft and you can't shake the chills."

Booth remained still and quiet. Sweets sat in the chair in front of Booth's desk and leaned forward with his elbows propping his upper body over his knees.

"You both have your ways of escaping dealing with it," he continued. "For Dr. Brennan, it's leaving the country and identifying remains. She can go to a world where no one from her past exists and she doesn't have to deal with any of the pain for that period in time. I suspect, however, that it still plagues her despite her physical distance from the situation.

"You, on the other hand, feel guilt for things that are not your fault. Sure, you were a sniper. You had to kill people. You explain to people, including Dr. Brennan, that you were just the finger that pulled the trigger. But do you believe that? I think you carry that guilt with you and use overprotectiveness as a mask so that you don't have to let anyone in and see that. The guilt eats you up."

Booth pulled his hands away from his face and covered one hand with the other and resting his chin on them. Sweets noticed his bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes.

"I just don't know what to do." Booth finally spoke. "I mean, I'm not mad anymore. But she definitely is and shows no signs of forgiving me anytime soon."

"Booth, I think the important thing to remember here is that all her life, Dr. Brennan has been conditioned to keep her emotions in neat compartments where no one can touch them. She avoids forming emotional attachments to protect herself."

"That's why she was so upset when Russ and Max came back." Booth grumbled. It was making more sense to him. She was more fragile than she let on. She told him on a few occasions that he was the only one she told about something. Something personal.

And now, here he was, pushing away the best friend he'd had. The smartest. The most beautiful.

"I think you just need to be honest with her. But take your time. If it took seven years to get her to where she was, know that it will be quite challenging to get her to open up again." Sweets lifted himself from his chair and headed towards the door.

He turned back to face a shrunken Booth. He looked small – not from loss of mass, but from grief. "And I'm sure you know this – but I can't clear you to work in the field quite yet." He expected a rebuttal, but was surprised to receive only a nod in return. "I'll be around if you need anything."

He left Booth to think about their conversation, the e-mail, and Parker. He felt at war with the universe, with God. He was unarmed and he was alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Who would have thought I'd write a longish chapter? Booth is finally coming to his senses a bit. But how will he actually make up for his anger with Brennan? <strong>

**Please let me know what you think. I won't beg for reviews, but I certainly like to know what I've done well and what I've done poorly. Thanks for reading!**

**-zee**


	11. The Confrontation

**Disclaimer: Despite my desires, I do not own Bones.**

Brennan sat in the living room of the Montenegro-Hodgins home, remembering the last time she'd been there.

It was the Paisley Johnson case – Hodgins surprised Angela with the magnificent home when Paisley decided she couldn't live in a home where her friend had been murdered. Brennan was glad her friend was not this superstitious, as Brennan's own home was the site of two deaths.

She shook herself out of her preoccupation as Angela came into the room with little Michael Staccato Vincent in her arms.

"I must say again, Angela, he is very cute. Even with his skull and features not being fully formed yet, I can tell he will have excellent bone structure and is sure to be very appealing to others his age in the future."

Angela smiled, the peculiar comment was nothing more than a compliment to her now; she had learned over the course of their friendship to take Brennan's commentary as it was – completely truthful and unabashed.

"Do you want to hold him, Bren?" Angela held the sleeping infant toward Brennan, lifting her encouraging eyes to meet her gaze. Brennan stared down at the child. She had seen babies before. They impressed her little, due to their lack of experience and knowledge in the world. But in the last few years, she grew more appreciative of them.

She nodded, allowing Angela to place the tiny bundle into her arms. Brennan focused her attention on her friend. The look on Angela's face was becoming an increasingly apparent reason to procreate. She still believed that any child of hers was a prodigy and that their presence in the world could only improve the human condition – but now the desire stemmed from the joy she saw others experience when holding their own child.

Angela leaned back on the couch where they were sitting. Exhaustedly, she sighed. Angela knew she needed to just come right out with it. She asked her friend to her home with not one but two ulterior motives.

The first was to give her arms a break – Michael was not exactly light as a feather. The second was to stage a mini-intervention. Brennan's leave from the Jeffersonian was a touchy subject for all involved.

For Angela and Hodgins, it was the possibility that their friend would once again leave them for a distant country. For the interns, it was the risk that they would lose their placement and scholarships – not to mention the best professor they could imagine. For Cam, it was unfortunately the status of her job. Being the boss didn't make her any more valuable with two of her staff on maternity leave, FBI consultant no longer attached to her lab, and a headlining anthropologist jumping ship.

Angela 'won' the pleasure of convincing the renown Dr. Temperance Brennan to stay this time.

"So, sweetie," she began, breaking her gaze from her son to her friend, "we have to talk."

Brennan recognized the phrase. She gathered that the connotation of the word was typically negative, and prefaced a conversation that was difficult for the speaker to hand down and even more difficult for the receiver to accept. Her assumption would prove to be correct.

"Bren, I love you, but you need to know how much you mean to all of us here."

"I am well aware of that, Ange, you have told me that everyone values my company as a friend and colleague."

"That's not what I mean this time, sweetie. This time I mean you're holding things together. Surely you remember how we all had to come back from the far reaches of the earth to save Cam's job."

"Yes, I do."

"Well, it's like this. You're different. You're different than when I met you, you're different than the first case I helped you work on, you're different than you were a month ago. When you left this last time, I was convinced you'd never come back."

"I would have kept in touch." Angela sat up straight, beginning to fume at her friend for her ignorance concerning her impact on those that loved her.

"That's not the point. You left no note, no location or number where I could contact you. You just… left!" Angela's tone was raised now, making it evident that the argument ensuing had a lot to do with her personal experience.

"We discussed that I might be leaving the country…"

Angela quickly interrupted. "I was due in a week! Sweetie, I love you, but you left us. You left _me." _With the last word she spoke, her voice became faint. "I was scared, Hodgins was scared. I needed you and your logical nonsense –" Brennan furrowed her brow at this oxymoron "-to calm me down.

"It was bad enough that I had to call your dad. Your father and my father are the only people in the world scary enough to convince stubborn people like us into changing our minds."

_So that is how my dad knew I was gone. I suppose I never told him where I was going either. _Brennan thought about how her sudden travel plans might have affected those around her. It seemed foolish to her that her impact could be so wide-spread.

"I'm sorry, Ange. If I would have known you would be so upset, I wouldn't have gone."

"I just thought that after all that's happened in your life, you'd be more aware of the repercussions of abandoning those you love." Angela knew the words would be stinging, but she intended them as they came. "Don't you find it at all irrational to leave all of us just because of one person?"

Brennan had to process this. _I was confused as to why they would be so upset about the absence of one person – myself. Yet, I went to Turkey because I wanted to evade one person – Booth. Very hypocritical of me. _

Brennan acknowledged the error in judgment. "I did not think about it that way. Thank you, Angela. I'm sorry if I was not the friend I should have been towards you." Brennan looked down and Michael and silently praised Angela for encouraging her father to lie – and allowing her to be there for the birth of her godson.

"It's alright, Bren. But you've got to make a decision here. Are you really going to stay mad, or are you going to rise out of this? You've done it before. You're strong, sweetie. There's no doubt about that."

Brennan was not so sure about her friend's belief. She had always believed herself to be impervious, but she felt that the walls she built and maintained over the years were starting to show their wear and were on the verge of collapse. Brennan smiled; she was simply glad to have such an authentic friend – despite the conundrum she now faced.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Another super late update. I appreciate all of you that have decided to be in it for the long haul - I am encouraged especially by the review of rmcbuckeye. Thanks for reading - like I've said before, getting the characters right is incredibly important to me. <strong>

**It was time for a little Brennan lovin', I hope this chapter did not come off as too filler-y. I love writing for all of the characters on the show, but I have to try to restrain myself from writing too much Booth and Sweets. I think their dynamic is just hilarious. **

**'Til next time,**

**zee**


	12. The Realization

"Seriously, Parks, you look fine." Booth flipped the mirror closed in the passenger seat of his SUV.

"Dad, I can't look like a dork," he paused and turned to his dad with a mischievous smile, "like you."

Booth snapped his head around to look at Parker with fake surprised look. "Don't think just because you're bald now I won't put you in a headlock!" The pair laughed.

_Laughing, _Booth thought. _Just one more thing I've taken for granted. _The combination of Booth's limited time with his son and Parker's constant exhaustion from the chemotherapy made it nearly impossible to have good time with him. This weekend, however, Parker was feeling better than he had been in weeks and insisted on a milkshake from the diner.

They pulled up and Parker flipped the mirror open yet again. After a few adjustments, he settled on wearing his ball cap backwards. Booth could only shake his head and enjoy the sight, remembering how self-conscious he had been when he was younger.

"You know, dad, I miss hanging out with you and doing goofy stuff." Parker uttered nonchalantly. Booth was both touched and wounded with the comment.

"Well, bud, that's why we're here. And we always have fun, right?"

"Yeah, dad. But when I'm with mom all the time, she makes me do my homework and read and stuff. I have to learn. Why can't I stop learning? Can't we just have fun all the time? If I get sicker…"

Booth interrupted Parker. "No, buddy, we don't talk like that. You're gonna get better and we'll always have fun. I'm your best friend, right?" Parker nodded. "Well that means we'll always have fun. But we'll learn, too. I'll teach you more about hockey, how to talk to girls, how to make an awesome BLT, and I'll teach you how to be a man. You can leave the school learning at school. You and I will learn guy stuff. 'Cause we're men, right?"

"Yeah! Men!" Booth put his fist out for his son to bump. Parker hit his dad's hand with his own similar, smaller one. He looked at his dad for another second and scrunched his face. "So, uh. Are we done talking, dad? 'Cause I'm ready for a milkshake." Parker did his best to sit still and wait in case his dad wanted to continue the speech. Booth gestured his hand toward the passenger door, non-verbally granting permission.

Although the speech may have served its purpose to redirect conversation, it strayed from subject to worry Booth. _I'll teach you how to be a man. What the hell was that? How am I supposed to teach my son when I can't even do it myself?_ His mind rested on his actions concerning a beautiful anthropologist.

If there was anything that Booth accepted in the past month or so, it was that life was too short to worry. He had been desensitized to death when he was a sniper, and then again when he began working at the Bureau in the homicide division. Though, after many near-death experiences of himself and his partner, Booth had nearly done a 180 in that department.

His partner. One more thing taken for granted.

He found it impossible not to think about it. He returned back to his old reasoning. They had been partners for six years. He assisted in finding her mother's killer, arresting her father, was the last word that set her father free on murder charges. Aside from literally saving her life several times, she had saved his both literally and figuratively. She was a good person that deserved more. So he thought.

"DAD! Can we sit with Sweets or not?" Booth snapped out of his contemplation suddenly, seeing the Flyers-clad 12-year old staring at him anxiously.

Booth looked around the corner and saw the toothy grin of the shrink. Sweets waved with nearly as much enthusiasm and impatience that Parker did. _No wonder they get along so well. _"Sure, buddy." He couldn't possibly deny Parker's requests at this point.

"Booth," Sweets greeted him as he approached, "good to see you back in the neighborhood." Booth sat down, unsure of whether to be relieved to have a somewhat-adult to talk to, or worried that he would just be getting a psycho-babble lecture while trying to chow down with his son.

"Thanks, Sweets." Booth flagged down the waitress, and signaled a "2" to her. It might have been a while, but the ladies at the diner still remembered the handsome man and his son's milkshake order.

"So, Parker," Sweets started. Booth shot him a look, meant to scare any intention of bringing up cancer or treatment or sickness to his son. Sweets returned the gesture by opening his mouth in disbelief as to say, 'you think I'm that stupid?' "I heard you've got a pretty sweet hat collection going on."

Parker perked up at the prospect of a conversation that didn't involve him hashing out the painful details of his last month. He went into grand detail explaining to Sweets that his dad gave him a bunch of his old hats from high school, Angela's dad gave him a signature hat that all of his friends were jealous of, and a list of other accessories Booth helped Parker lay out and display in his room that same day.

But Booth's mind once again wandered away from the room. It was an out-of-body experience. His reality was stranger than fiction; even his brain tumor hallucinations were not as bizarre as the backwards world he was in. His once-shaggy-haired son was bald, he was single, on leave with the FBI…

… but it always came back to her.

"_I have the sense that everything's changing. You almost died, Booth. That could happen again. What if next time I can't get to you?"_

Would it matter at this point?

"_Our partnership is important to me. You know that, right?"_

He screwed it up.

"_Why do you feel like this is going somewhere?"_

Good damn question.

"_I'm standing right beside you, Booth. Like always. Like I always will." _

Something had to give.

Booth knew he had to do something.

After all, he was the gambler.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm back! No reason to be gone, but finally back. I'm excited about what is to come in the next few chapters. GET. READY. <strong>

**Thanks for the reviews and follows... I love the flattery and am looking forward to more feedback this time around as well!**

**love!**


	13. The Silence

She was finally getting used to it. The silence.

Her life had been solitary for a long time, at least since her parents' disappearance (and mother's subsequent death), so being alone was not the thing that brought her this melancholy. Rather, it was the sudden silence from those around her.

Since Angela had her intervention of sorts with her, Brennan could sense an odd tenseness in the air. She hadn't inquired about the strange feeling, although she'd overheard Wendell and Hodgins complaining about the "lack of interesting cases lately."

Since Booth had taken his leave from the FBI and an indefinite leave from the Jeffersonian, murder cases had not been assigned to the team of scientists. In the hopes that Booth would soon return, Cam had also held off on inquiring about the placement of a new agent and informing Brennan she'd done so.

While the identification of stone-age remains interested Brennan, it left something to be desired. These identifications lacked the thrill of chasing suspects and racing against the clock. Not to mention only one in one-thousand sets of remains involved foul play of any kind. The team was getting antsy, and Brennan was no exception.

She learned quickly by trial and error that her interns were not as invested in this work as she. Even Hodgins and Angela were bored by the slow pace history presented. Cam had even busied herself with paperwork and free-lanced for the D.C. Chief Medical Examiner's office due to a deficit of flesh at the Jeffersonian. The usual jovial attitude of the Medico-Legal forensics platform had become one of resentment and boredom.

Brennan burst into Angela's office, visibly and understandably frustrated. "I just don't get it, Ange! Why is everyone so upset that we are identifying bodies? This is... it's what we do! It's what we've always done!" Brennan dropped her hands to her sides, tilting her head and pressing her mouth in a straight line.

Angela recognized the face. It was irritation with a hint of defeat. "Well, sweetie," she said with a grin, "let's be honest, really old dead guys are not as exciting as murders." She poured two cups of tea, handing one to her friend and gestured for her to sit down.

"But we used to only do historical identifications and authentications. Why is it so hard for everyone to just enjoy the uncovering of history?"'

Angela smiled. There were few people in the world that could truly reap joy from examining a dead body, and her twisted genius of a friend was one of them.

"Bren, it's like dating a b ad kisser, then dating a really good kisser. You don't realize the first guy was a bad kisser until you've tasted something much better."

"Kissing is irrelevant here. I'm speaking about our old murder cases compared with the ancient remains cases." She stopped and noticed Angela was giving her a look.

"It was a metaphor, sweetie. Old dead people being the bad kisser and fresh dead people being the good kisser." Angela mentally forbid herself from referring to someone as "freshly dead" again.

"Actually, it's a simile," -another look from Angela- "but I see what you meant."

As if someone had heard their conversation of kisses and the dead, Cam burst through the doorway of Angela's office just as Brennan had only minutes earlier.

"Alright, ladies, we have a case!" Cam tapped her hand on the doorman, seemingly bounding with pure energy and joy. It had been weeks since Brennan came back from her unannounced leave, and longer since anyone in the building had even had contact with anyone at the FBI.

The pair of friends jumped from their seats excitedly. "From this century?" Angela exclaimed.

"Better," Cam responded. "This week." She added a grin that neither Brennan nor Angela had seen before. "Not to mention foul play is suspected." Angela noted that either the month she had been out of the lab with Michael had warped her brain or she had come to enjoy the murder-solving process. Either way, she felt that the gaiety in the room was a tad morbid - yet completely acceptable.

* * *

><p>After an initial assessment, the team had discovered that the body was that of a female in her late twenties. The body was found behind an apartment complex, but was determined to be dumped there postmortem.<p>

"Without the FBI's report, we can't determine where to collect soil samples, we can't question any suspects or witnesses... are you going to call them, Dr. Saroyan?" Brennan was gunning to get on the case.

"Dr. Brennan, I assure you, I have talked to the FBI and they are sending us an agent within the hour. Just like thirty minutes ago when I told you the same thing." Cam, although annoyed with the persistent anthropologist, was thankful that the team was happier. _Nothing like a murder investigation to liven spirits._

The team headed to the upper platform to break. They discussed Michael's first days, passed around pictures on Angela's tablet, and joked about sleep - and the lack thereof. It was Hodgins that broke the laughter.

"G-man!" The team all turned their heads down to the forensic platform to see Booth smiling up at them. So they thought.

Hodgins, Cam, Wendell, and Angela made their way down the stairs. Angela trailed slightly behind the rest and offered Brennan a glance before descending. Brennan returned a light nod, indicating her friend go without her.

They all took turns hugging the agent, as Brennan looked on. Murmurs of "where have you been?" and "how's Parker?" resounded. The smiling faces and laughs seemed so far away.

This silence, it seemed, she would never get used to.

* * *

><p>Booth passed the security clearance and found himself once again in front of the large glass doors. It was a surreal kind of feeling, entering the lab again. After weeks of planning, talking to Rebecca and encouraging visits with Parker's doctor, Booth felt better about returning to service with the FBI.<p>

The doors slid open. A feeling of unease struck him – he wanted this to be alright. For the team to be back in action and for the real purpose of the team to be fulfilled – solving murders. Fortunately, he knew the squints would be all for it. He just needed the queen of them all to agree. Her words from the ice rink floated into the forefront of his mind.

_But, uh, you're the only FBI Agent I want to work with._

He believed she was telling the truth; she was always adamant that he be the only agent she dealt with, mainly because other agents would not be able to handle her. Booth only hoped that she would err on the side of trusting him again and not severing the Jeffersonian's ties with the FBI altogether. It was a call that on paper only Cam could make, but realistically was up to the illustrious Dr. Brennan.

He quietly approached the forensic platform, looking for signs of anyone. Booth could tell that the investigation had already begun judging from the disgustingly mangled body parts lying on the table. Sliding his card sent a wave of calm through him. The sound was familiar. Something actually hadn't changed.

_Hey, you know what? Forget about Agent Perotta, all right? Nothing's gonna change between me and you._

She saw right through that.

_Well entropy is a natural force that pulls everything apart at a subatomic level. Everything changes._

He lied.

_Not everything, Bones… __I'm never gonna make you fall. I'm always here._

His memory was interrupted when Hodgins saw him.

"G-man!" Booth smiled and looked up to the balcony from the case file in his hands. Like any tense situation, he met eyes with the person eye contact would be most awkward with. Those deep blue eyes. Before he'd seen her eyes for the first time those years ago, Booth scoffed at his pals who'd said they were head over heels and could 'get lost' in a woman's eyes. Now he was living it.

He pulled his unwilling eyes away from her as Hodgins approached him. He hugged the rest of the team. It was strange to him that such an eclectic group of people were his friends. He'd missed them.

"Where have you _been, _man?" Hodgins inquired.

"I took some time off to be with Parker…" he trailed off. It was no secret that although Parker was a big reason, Brennan's current distaste for him was the real reason he hadn't been around.

"How is my best friend Parker?" Angela reached a hand out and touched Booth's arm. "Better I hope?"

"He's doing great, ah, you know, for being bald and all. Tired all the time, but his counts have been good lately and he's starting to eat and act normally again. Doc says it's a good sign."

Cam could tell he was uncomfortable with the conversation and decided to distract. "We were all just sitting around and thought we might go get something to eat before completely diving into the case – what do you say to the diner?"

"That… that sounds good." He paused and looked up to the balcony, focus detaching from the conversation. "I just need to take care of something first. Meet you all there?"

A string of nods replied. Their faces said more than their words could. _Do I look absolutely terrible? Why the pitiful sad-eyed puppy faces? I shaved…_

He made his way to the stairs and began his ascension. He had practiced this speech a million times on the way over. _I'm sorry, Bones. I won't ever do anything like this to you again. I'm a terrible person. You know I have a guilty conscience and I have to make this right. You mean the world to me and I love you. _

The last three words inserted themselves every time he'd rehearsed. Although true, he was unsure if the words would scare her away more or convince her that he did still care. It was a gamble. He hoped that the words would just magically present themselves eloquently and smoothly. Such was not his luck in the past.

He reached the top of the stairs to find Brennan stretched out completely on the sofa. She had one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other draped over her head, with the crook of her elbow covering her eyes.

He approached slowly, as to not disturb her in the event that she had fallen asleep between the eye contact and that moment.

"Bones?" he whispered. Flinch. Her hand gripped her side firmly.

"Bones, are you okay? I…"

Maintaining her position, she tersely responded.

"What do _you _want?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You can't possibly understand my relief to finally have these two in the same room. The longing was getting really repetitive to write and I felt that it dragged on long enough. Now for some high-quality groveling on Booth's part. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! Bones fans are the best. <strong>

**love.**


	14. The Beginning

He had to hold off on his initial reaction of 'What the hell is wrong with you?' He knew what was wrong. He was on her turf with her friends and hadn't even bothered to warn her.

_So he thinks he can show up unannounced at my lab? Distract my coworkers in the middle of a federal investigation? This was typical Booth. Demanding the attention of anyone who will pay him the slightest bit of it. _Brennan was not impressed with his brash demeanor. _  
><em>  
>Booth stepped only marginally closer, knowing that with one misspoken word, she could surely incapacitate him. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to deliver the emotionally-charged speech. Somehow, the words escaped him. He looked at the woman on the couch with disappointment. If the shame he felt in the last week was a puddle, what he felt now was an ocean. The reality of what he had done to her ebbed in and out of his consciousness. The evidence was right in front of him.<p>

People do not have permanence. Brennan learned this the hard way. First it was her parents. Then Russ. Her foster families. College friends. Sully. Zack. And now Booth. It seemed foolish to her to invest in anyone so deeply anymore.

She grew irritated in the minutes that they were silent. On any other day, she would have been comfortable in the extended silence. She held her arm over her eyes, unsure of the emotion she was experiencing and whether or not it would result in tears. This was not a day for uncomfortable silence.

"Did you need something, Agent Booth?" Booth could sense the pure disdain and disappointment in her voice. From the beginning, she'd only called him Booth. Now using his title felt impersonal and distant.

She still lay motionless on the sofa. Sweets would most likely read the decision to stay put as an attempt to maintain control of the situation and show disinterest in the matter at hand.

"I just came to talk to you, Bones. I wanted to say..." the words wouldn't form. His prepared script eluded him.

"Sorry?" Brennan offered curtly. "If that is your intention, I will save you the trouble. I do not plan on forgiving you anytime in the immediate future. I would appreciate it if you would please see yourself out. I have work to get to."

Booth was infuriated- for more than one reason. For one, he'd choked on his apology. Second, he was listening to this frustrating woman tell him to get lost in not so few words. The dismissal proved to be a catalyst for his ability to speak.

"Y'know what, Bones? No. I'm not going to apologize to you. I'm not going to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. That would be insulting to you. Instead, I need you to appreciate that I am still here, pissing you off.

"When I said those things to you - about not being able to trust you and not knowing why we were partners... I was an ass. I won't lie, I was so angry at you. Parker is my world. It's bad enough that I see him once every two weeks. I don't sign his report card, I don't go to PTA meetings, and I don't even get to see him play hockey."

Brennan was listening intently. She dared not move for fear that her mysterious emotion would be revealed. Booth continued.

"That is one of my bigger regrets. Bones, I spend my time wondering if I'm able to actually be that guy people can rely on. I couldn't do it with Parker, with Pops, Rebecca, Hannah, Jared, and now you. I let you down.

"You've had nothing but disappointments from people you love. I... I don't want to have any part in that crowd. So I'm not apologizing. Because you've heard it all before. But I will say this, I'm standing in front of you. I feel like crap for the way I treated you. Not everything changes, Bones. I'm still too aggressive and you're too stubborn. And I'm not going to leave you and break that promise.

"For once, I'll try a little logic and appeal to you. You may never consider me a friend again, but if you can just accept the fact that we're better together..."

Brennan sat up, now fairly clear about the emotion she was feeling. Relief.

Booth's brown eyes caught Brennan's blues. He held her gaze and took a deep breath as he finished. "...and will always be, we will be fine. You have all of the facts. The years, the cases, the trials, the people. Most of all, me. I'm the proof. And I'll still be here when you're ready to believe me again."

With that, he turned back towards the stairs and began to walk the familiar path to the platform.

"Why do you think I'll believe you?" Brennan called after him.

He stopped halfway down the steps and grinned. He turned and faced her once more.

"Because you always do."

* * *

><p><em>"Why do you think I'll believe you?" Brennan called after him.<em>

_He stopped halfway down the steps and grinned. He turned and faced her once more._

_"Because you always do."_

He'd left her sitting here to think about it. If there was anything he'd done right, it was allowing his return to sink in. She had not cried, yet she felt a familiar pressure behind her eyes threatening to release.

The rest of the team returned from lunch with Booth to find Brennan on the platform examining the new body. They hesitantly approached the table and waited for the case notes to be read. Booth pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

"You will need to speak with your crime scene techs. I do not know whether they are inexperienced or just lazy, but their handling of this body was neither practical nor per protocol."

Collectively, they turned to look at Brennan as she spoke, then at Booth, the evident recipient of the statement.

"I guess we'll just have to bring someone in to oversee them then." He smiled - Booth knew what he was insinuating.

"I would prefer to do the recovery myself with my interns. I do not want the remains compromised again."

Booth and Angela shared a smile from across the room before Booth continued.

"The body was found in an abandoned storage unit in Langley Park. The unit was auctioned off to the highest bidder, who found the body in a plastic bin. I've questioned the proud new owner, but their alibi checks out with the time of death. Keep looking for anything – you know, gross or interesting. I'm going now to question the owner of the complex and get the surveillance tapes for you, Angela."

Angela nodded and looked to Brennan for a reaction. Not surprisingly, her face betrayed not one emotion or thought.

"Someone get me when there are bones to be examined." Brennan ordered, removing her gloves.

She exited, and the team turned to Booth. Hodgins spoke up with the thought on everyone's mind. With a slap to Booth's back, he cried "We're back!"

"You've gotta admit, Sweetie, it was kinda hot." Angela and Brennan sat in the artist's office discussing Booth's monologue. Angela had cleverly eavesdropped at the bottom of the stairs while he spilled.

"I just don't understand all of what he was trying to convey, Ange. It seemed he had regrets about what he said and did, but said right out that he would not apologize. It does not make sense."

Angela smiled. In fact, what he said made no sense at all. "That's how you know he was being genuine. He knows he screwed up, Bren. He knows that an apology and someone's word will never convince you of the truth. You need physical evidence. I think he's going to try to prove it to you."

"I believe I would like him to succeed," Brennan offered nonchalantly. "I do enjoy working with him and have missed having someone around most of the time."

Angela chuckled. Even after her partner's near admission of being too hooked on her to give up, Brennan was unaware of the direction they were headed.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Sweetie. It would be a shame to let such a sexy thing go to waste." Angela flashed her friend a wide smile. "Besides, there are murders to be solved and you two are some of the best."

Brennan responded, a vivacity rising from within her. "No, Ange, we _are_ the best."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks (again!) to alexindigo for the encouraging words. There are some days - like today - that I feel like I could write this story forever. Then there are some days that I want to scrap the whole thing completely because I don't think I'll ever be satisfied with the way that it's going. Thanks for the compliments and suggestions, everyone. I am looking forward to writing MORE! <strong>

**love.**

**-zee**


	15. The Joke

Brennan rolled over and stared at the clock. 5:57. It was not worth the three minutes of staring at the ceiling to stay in bed until the alarm sounded, transforming her from partially awake to startled. She turned the alarm off and hoisted herself onto her elbows. Her eyes surveyed the room, gathering thoughts for the day ahead.

_Get dressed. Stretch. Jog in the park. Stretch. Shower. Get dressed. Eat something. Meet Booth._

_Meet Booth._

Although it hadn't been as long as the previous hiatus she'd had with her partner, the words halted the rhythmic marching the list was completing in her head. She had hesitation the weight and size of the Hubble telescope bearing down upon her.

Timed to the pounding of her feet on the pavement, Brennan explored her hesitation. _Will we fall back into routine? Will history repeat itself? Is it necessary to go back into the field? Should I be satisfied? Will I only be more bothered in the future by continuing the pattern?_The questions went on for days – she postulated on the possible success or failure of continuing her partnership with Booth.

Before she knew it, she had completed her loop and arrived at her front door. After finishing off a glass of water, she showered and promptly dressed in a collared linen shirt, jeans, boots, and a necklace she'd purchased on her most recent expedition to Turkey. She paused on her way out of the door only to retrieve a long wool trench and to consider bringing breakfast. She passed on the meal and headed to the front of the building to wait for Booth.

Booth sat in the parking lot of Brennan's apartment, starving to eat the meal he'd picked up on the way. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously to the beat of a song only he could hear.

_Come on, Bones, where… ah._His impatient internal nagging was interrupted by her form quickly and purposefully stomping towards his car. The cold weather was beginning to blow in, quite literally. Brennan's hair was nearly sideways as she approached the SUV.

"I find that each year I am less prepared for the cold weather, despite the laws of conditioning suggesting that I be used to it by now." Brennan hopped into the car, eager to get out of the cold.

"Ha, well I don't believe all of this global warming crap that they're throwing at us. This isn't warmer." Booth quickly wished to redact his statement, knowing that she might explain global warming.

"The earth experiences many natural fluctuations in climate and temperature. Historically, we are 'on par' as you would say." Booth smiled. Even the tiniest of sports references from her mouth made him proud. She had to have learned it from him.

He reached into the white paper bag and pulled out a package of sorts wrapped in wax paper. He held it out to the passenger seat. "Here, Bones. Breakfast."

She looked at the package and back at Booth. "I didn't need you to get breakfast for me, Booth. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, Bones, but I know you didn't have anything before you came out to meet me. Plus, it's a chocolate croissant. You can't seriously say no to it." He smiled and extended his hand out again, pushing it closer to her face over and over.

She grabbed the package and unwrapped it. _Yes, I neglected to eat before departing, but…_"Thanks Booth. Did you get breakfast?"

"Yep!" He pulled his hand out of the bag once more, revealing a doughnut. He put it in his mouth and held it there with no hands, turning to Brennan and nodding. She turned to meet his eyes for the first time since they'd been in the car that morning.

Booth was caught off guard as he usually was. Those eyes never missed an opportunity to capture his attention. His jaw slacked only slightly, releasing the doughnut he held in his teeth to the floor.

"Booth, you're making a mess." Brennan reached towards the floorboard to retrieve the fallen pastry.

"Bones, don't pick that up, I'll get it later, Bones." He reached to swat her hand away. "Seriously, I'll get it."

Brennan lifted her back against the passenger seat and looked out the window. "I guess some things don't change," she mumbled under her breath.

"What?" Booth responded with a mouth full of a second doughnut.

"Nothing. You just haven't changed. Including your habits of talking before fully masticating your food." Booth flashed her a cheesy grin, complete with crumbs and sprinkles. "Are we almost there?"

"Simmer down, Bones. Only a few more minutes and we'll be there."

They remained quiet for the rest of the ride, save for a few comments about the victim and the upcoming interview of the suspect. As they parked at their destination, Booth hesitated getting out of the vehicle.

"Something's fishy," he whispered, "I don't suppose you've changed enough to stay in the car if I ask you to?" His eyes stayed put on a car in the driveway where they were parked, but Brennan's door closing indicated her response. _Of course not. _He drew his gun cautiously.

"The door to this car is still open. This could indicate that the person inside was in a rush to get inside or simply forgot."

"Or forcibly removed." Booth walked closer to the side door of the home and felt the doorknob. "Unlocked. Someone is probably here."

Brennan ascended the stairs and proceeded to knock on the glass of the door. Just as she let her hand rest by her side to wait, she felt something on her shoulder. A man in a button-down shirt grabbed her firmly and swung her out of the way, aiming to get to Booth. Booth held his gun out into the man's face.

Brennan gripped the assailant's arm and twisted it behind his back. In a fit of rage and pain, the man leaned sideways and delivered a swift kick to Booth's midsection. Booth lost his balance and fell over the short deck railing backwards.

Brennan twisted the man's arm tighter, positive that she was incurring damage to his rotator cuff and perhaps spraining a ligament or two if not more. She forced him to lower himself to the ground and using her knee, slammed him onto the wooden floor of the deck. The man attempted to lift himself up again with his free hand, but found that three of his fingers were then quickly broken by the woman he'd so foolishly underestimated.

"Stay down or I'll break something else. I know more about bone structure than you do, but I am sure you know that broken ribs can be painful and slow to heal." She pressed her knee into his back once again for emphasis.

"Booth, you can handcuff him now," Brennan called. In response she heard only a groan and heavy breathing coming from the ground below her.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, _ugh, _Bones, you're going to need to call for backup. I… _grughhh… _can't move."

Backup arrived and took the attacker away. In exchange for the offender, Brennan was slipped the number of one of the techs on the scene. Brennan held the paper handed to her and approached the gurney where her partner was being strapped in.

"I don't understand. I didn't know his name before now when he wrote it on this piece of paper and he is giving me a number to call. Angela says that this almost always strictly suggests that the male is interested in engaging in intercourse," Brennan laughed, "but that won't happen."

Booth was neither amused nor distracted by her story.

"Bones, when are you just going to accept that guys are, _gahh, _into you?" Booth winced and held his breath with every move of the gurney into the ambulance.

Brennan smiled coyly. "I imagine I would accept that premise the same time you accept you need surgery for your back…" she paused for the effect of her punch line "…when pachyderms fly." She smiled.

He couldn't help see the excited look on her face as she waited for his response. No excruciating pain in the world could take away from the pride that swelled within him when he saw her feel good about something. It wasn't often in identifying bodies or discussing global matters that Brennan felt the need to be affirmed in her accomplishment. However, Booth noticed that when it came to the humor arena, she wanted praise and lots of it.

"When pigs fly, Bones. Pigs."

"Well that isn't as funny," her mouth twisted in thought, "swine are more intelligent than pachyderms. The nature of the joke is that it is incredibly unlikely…"

He didn't hear the words. He just looked at her as he had for six years. Adoringly. Undeservedly. Perhaps even uselessly. Despite the fact that she rationalized even the simplest of English colloquialisms, he couldn't help but admire her.

"… for said animal to fly. An elephant would assuredly require more time to figure out a way to take flight. It is more entertaining the way I told it." She sat on a seat in the ambulance next to him.

His eyes snapped away for fear of being caught staring. "You're right, Bones. Your way is way funnier."

Booth was relieved to be in a hospital bed – for once. In his opinion, the ambulance ride was both unnecessary and incredibly uncomfortable. He could only imagine the bill in the FBI would receive for this worker's comp.

Parker had just been by with Rebecca. Although Booth had only been admitted for observation overnight, Parker insisted upon making sure his dad wasn't having "his head chopped open again." Familiar with the staff himself, Parker had also dragged his mom all over the pediatric oncology wing to see his doctors and nurses.

Booth was left alone in the room again. He wished it weren't past visiting hours and that he could spend more time with Parker. He knew that his injury would only set him back. His weekend with Parker was coming up, but in his state he would be unable to take him to his chemotherapy appointment, much less get out of bed.

It was irritating to Booth that so many thing had hindered him from his normal living lately. It seemed that ever since he found out that Parker was sick, he'd only had complication after complication interfering with his routine. This back injury was no exception.

He allowed himself to rest – never truly getting a deep sleep due to his sniper training, Booth was thankful for the knock-you-flat-on-your-ass drugs lulling him into a peaceful slumber.


	16. The Guilt

"Mr. Booth?"

After mumbling several unintelligible words, Booth opened his eyes. The room was now bright and a woman in a highly reflective white coat looked down on him.

"You know, for a rather sturdy man, you exhibit a very strong reaction to painkillers. According to the nurses on third shift, you are quite the talker."

Booth sat up slowly, testing whether or not his back could take the movement. _So far so good, _he thought.

"So what's the story? When do I get out of here?" Although unusually well-rested thanks to the care of the medical staff, hospitals still gave him the creeps. _Too much death, _he thought. _Ironic. _

"At the request of your girlfriend, we're – "

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes, I believe a Miss Brennan? She's listed as your power of attorney. We assumed she knew what she was talking about."

"Doctor. It's Doctor Brennan." _Great, now she's got me correcting people too. "_And we're not dating. She's my partner. FBI."

"I am sorry about the mistake. Should we not be taking her advice? She assured me that you would do best at home instead of here – "

"Whoa, whoa. No. She's right. Home. That's where I'd rather be. When can I leave? I need to call a ride, ya know.

"Dr. Brennan is down the hall signing the discharge and AMA papers right now. I'll send someone in to talk to you about your rehabilitation and treatment." She smiled and started to walk towards the door. Halfway, she turned and spoke. "If you and Dr. Brennan are not involved…"

"Yes? Were you asking for me?" Brennan came through the doorway and paused next to the now embarrassed doctor.

"I – I was just telling Mr. Booth here that you were signing him out. I'll send that specialist in right away." She made no hesitation in scooting out.

"I think she was interested in me, Bones. You may have just squelched a potential date."

"I don't believe that I squelched anything, Booth. You probably would have respectfully declined as you have with the other potential mates that have shown interest in you lately. I was just diffusing her suggestion so you wouldn't have to." Brennan set a cup of coffee on the bedside table in front of Booth.

"Wait – you meant to do that? Interrupt her? Where'd ya learn that trick, Bones?" He smiled, picking up the cup of coffee.

"I imagine it has a lot to do with the extensive amount of time I've spent around Dr. Sweets. It isn't all that difficult to read a person's emotions through their body language and reactions to certain events. A primate could do it."

"Well, now, Sweets does a lot more than just read people, Bones. It's a lot of observation and careful studying. He's pretty sharp. Knows what he's talking about. Most of the time at least."

Brennan cocked her head to the side. "No, I meant a primate can sense those feelings. I wasn't insinuating Sweets was at all idiotic. If anything, he is beyond intelligent for his age and profession."

Booth laughed. Although he was sometimes lost when his partner spoke in such a scholarly manner, it made a lot of sense to him lately. There was an air of clarity that swept in when Brennan accepted Booth's non-apology. He'd promised himself not to take her for granted again, and it had made him more open to hearing what she was saying underneath all of the heavy vocabulary.

Their conversation continued, touching on the case and the Jeffersonian crew's discoveries in the house where Booth had been knocked down a level – quite literally. After a while, they both became quiet, focused on the TV, turned on when Booth realized it was Sunday. _Football. _

The low sounds of the commentators were overcome suddenly when a monotone voice called out.

"Seeley Joseph Booth? I'm Dr. Turner. I'm here to speak with you about your rehabilitation and brace system."

_Brace system? Damnit. There's no way in hell I'm gonna like this. _Booth frowned at the sound of it.

"We're going to let you go, but you should know that you're not going to be able to be independent for a couple of weeks. With the cold weather coming, we want you to heal as much as possible before there is ice and snow on the ground."

Booth nodded, looking to Brennan. She offered a face that said _'Sorry' _to him. She was more than aware that Booth's inner alpha male was not a fan of dependency. It was one thing they had in common.

"We are going to suggest that you wear a full coverage brace to ensure that your L1 and 2 vertebrae have an adequate opportunity to heal. You'll have therapy twice a week until we recommend otherwise. Do you have any questions?" He pulled the brace out of a box at his side.

"No, unless I can convince you to give me something smaller than that," Booth joked. The dull Dr. Turner was not amused. Brennan and Booth exchanged another look, this time of annoyance. Not long ago, Brennan would have been the subject of such a look.

The doctor fit the cumbersome brace on Booth and left, only uttering a few words about expected recovery time.

"Well he was a peach."

"He certainly didn't like you as much as the previous doctor did."

'That, you're right about. Hey, uh, Bones, you mind stepping outside for a sec? I gotta get dressed before you spring me from this place." Booth scrunched his face, feeling both the awkwardness of his request and his partial nudity.

"Of course. Just call me when you're ready. I brought this bag from your apartment with more comfortable clothes. I hope you don't mind me going, I wasn't positive that anyone else knew you were here." She walked out of the room and closed the door, waiting for his call.

Booth looked at the bag. He immediately felt guilty again. It seemed to him that Brennan picked up where they had left off – taking care of her partner. Of course, she saw it as a logical fulfillment of needs that she was happy to do, but Booth knew that it had more to do with emotions. He was surprised that she was already so willing to slide back into their comfortable partnership.

_Compartmentalization, _he thought. _Is she avoiding still being mad about what I've done? _ He pulled his shirt out of his bag, still wondering about Brennan's intentions.

* * *

><p>She closed the door behind her. <em>I hope Booth does not mind me getting his things at his apartment. I only wanted to make sure he was comfortable – not trying to overstep boundaries. <em>She was so unsure of their relationship, but it felt so natural when he picked her up the day before. _If only all friendly relationships were as easy as the purely sexual ones I've had in the past._

Only moments later, she heard a crash. "Booth?" she called from the hallway. "I'm coming in!"

She entered the room quickly and found Booth lying on the floor in his boxers and socks with his tee shirt halfway over his head. Brennan tried to contain herself, but found the sight too humorous. She laughed loudly, masking not an ounce of her amusement.

"Are you just going to stand there and laugh at me, or are you going to help me off the floor?"

Stifling giggles, Brennan lifted Booth to a sitting position on the floor and pulled his shirt the rest of the way over his head. "What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious? I fell. Geez. I lost my balance and because of this damn brace, I couldn't catch myself. Please help me up."

She pulled him to his feet and helped him to the bed. "Are you going to need assistance getting dressed?"

Booth's puppy face indicated that he would need help, but was unwilling to ask for it. Brennan silently understood and aided him in getting the FBI sweats on. She situated him in a wheelchair and the pair made their way to the parking lot. Booth was silent aside for a few 'thank you's, and Brennan, not seeing a reason to fill the silence with useless chatter, did the same until they approached the vehicle.

"I took the liberty of bringing your SUV, Booth. I parked it at my apartment complex yesterday and was under the impression that you would appreciate the extra space with your back in its current condition as opposed to my Prius. I hope my assumption is correct?"

The wave of guilt hit him again. He was having to rely on her, and she was taking it in stride, as if it were nothing. She had a job, friends, her own life. But here she was, being his patient advocate, helping him get dressed, and taking him home. Wasn't their partnership supposed to be the other way around?

"It's great, Bones." He somehow made it into the passenger seat and he closed the door behind him.

Brennan loaded the wheelchair into the backseat and climbed into the driver's side. "I do enjoy driving this, as expensive as it is to fill with fuel."

Booth groaned at the thought that she had also filled his tank. Would the unrequited kindness never end? _It's bad enough that I was a jerk to her and now she's taking care of all of my shit. What's next?_

With her next admission, he realized that it might have been a bad question to ask.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, all. I apologize for the delay in these last two, as I have with the rest. I just finished a class for my nursing requirement that should open up more time to write - hence why I've given you two chapters in two days!<br>I want to thank you faithful out there for continuing to stick with the story and choosing to believe that I, in fact, have not abandoned this story. I would like to ask a favor of you, despite being undeserving. We all know that the hiatus is almost over (THANK GOD) and Bones will be back in a little over two weeks - but I have a question for you:**

**When Bones returns, will you still be interested in reading a fic that will be out of context? I wouldn't want to deprive anyone, but I can adjust if the real thing is just too good to dwell on FFs.  
><strong>

**Please leave me a note in the reviews or PM. Thank you all for reading - you are just tres ****magnifique!**

**love.**

**-zee**


	17. The Surprise

**AN: And here we go... in my mind, this is where the story starts to speed up and really take off. Thank you to all of you lovely readers and reviewers. You make this story so much better. I'm going to try something new this chapter, and that is messaging back ANYONE reviews. I want to hear your feedback and get to know you if you'll have me - I won't bite. **

**SO here you are, enjoy. **

* * *

><p>"I asked Doctor Sweets to help me rearrange your furniture in your apartment." She paused for his objection, but received only silence. She continued, "I knew you would be immobile for a few weeks, and because of your stubborn nature, your apartment didn't have enough space for when you inevitably decide to go on about your business in a wheelchair."<p>

Booth winced. _Should I be most worried about the fact that Sweets has inevitably profiled me further by using my apartment, that Bones has once again anticipated and met my needs, or that I am that damn predictable? _He kept his eyes on the passing shapes outside his window. More medication, resulting in a deep and heavy sleep, was welcome anytime now.

Brennan parked by the building and proceeded to remove Booth's bag and wheelchair from the back of the vehicle. Booth slowly opened the door and noodled on the best way to maneuver safely to the ground.

As Brennan reached the other side, Booth caught a glimpse of something over Brennan's shoulder that caused him to do a double take.

"Pops?"

The older man was sitting on a bench near the door to the stairs and elevator. He rose and approached them, taking Brennan off guard along with her partner.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Booth was perplexed yet pleasantly surprised to see his grandfather.

"That's no way to speak to your elders, Shrimp. Especially when you have to be helped out of a car by a woman, you pansy." He paused and looked to Brennan. "No offense to you of course, Temperance."

"I don't take offense to that. I am an able-bodied woman and Booth is incapacitated. I assume you are referring to the stereotype that men should be strong and rugged. Yet, I am playing to the stereotype that women should be caretakers." She smiled sweetly and offered a hug. "It's good to see you, Hank."

"Not as good as it is to see you taking care of my boy. Which reminds me –" he released his hug with her and peeked around her shoulder to look at Booth "-why haven't you called me to tell me any of this? Parker, you, jumping ship with the beautiful doctor? I may be old, but I can still hear!"

Booth neglected to call his grandfather for a reason. He felt no need to cast his doom-and-gloom attitude on the senior, especially as he was now enjoying his retirement home more than ever. Booth remained quiet, hoping the question would pass and be forgotten. _It was for his own good, right? Right?_

He reached up and grasped the roof handle tightly, resting the remainder of his weight on Bones' shoulder to lower himself to the ground. He changed the subject.

"How did you get here Pops?"

Hank looked irritated and offended at the attempted skirting of his original question. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that I am here and I want to know what the hell is wrong with you that you thought I couldn't handle a little bad news."

_Should have known better than to keep it from him. _"I knew you were enjoying everything at the home and assumed you wouldn't want to be bothered by it." Booth noted Pops' disagreement and amended his statement. "I didn't want to worry you."

"Well you didn't care about that when you went to Afghanistan. Or when you got blown up. Or shot. Shrimp, you just have to learn that I'm not ever going to be on the sidelines when it comes to you and your brother."

"I know, Pops. And I'll never thank you enough for that."

"Thank me by not lying to me. I'm just glad Temperance here had the good sense to mention it."

Booth's eyes slowly trailed to Brennan's. He gave her a long look to indicate his feelings on the matter, knowing she would most likely not read this situation to be anything but appropriate. Admittedly, his disapproving glare had suffered a bit since being relegated to a wheelchair.

"Relax, Seeley. I called her. We keep in touch. That's more than I can say for my own grandsons!"

"Alright, alright. I'm wrong, you're right. Now can we go inside? I'm cold and in pain and I just want to pass out for a few hours." Booth crossed his arms in a pouty, childish manner. Casting a knowing glance to Hank, Brennan rolled Booth inside and into the elevator.

* * *

><p>After a process of struggling to get out of the wheelchair and into bed and taking a shot of whiskey with his medication, Booth woke after a 5-hour nap to Hank standing over him.<p>

"You know, son, if you really feel that way, you need to tell her and stop being a wuss about it."

Booth pulled himself up slowly to a sitting position. _What the hell is he talking about _now?

Hank sat on the bed and patted Booth's arm. "You've been talking about her for hours."

"Bones?" _No shit, who else could it be? _"Did she hear me?"

"She left when you started saying her name. 'Temperance, Temperance.' For a pretty girl, she's sure got an ugly name." Hank stood from the bed and started walking out of the bedroom.

"I like it." Booth added timidly.

Hank turned around. _"_What did I tell you? After all of my years of experience, and you don't listen to me? She's beautiful, smart, loaded, and she obviously cares about you. Quit dragging you heels and get her!"

"It's not that easy, Pops. She doesn't want to be with me."

"Do you think it's a coincidence that she doesn't want to be with anyone else? It's not rocket science. She's waiting for you. I thought I raised you to be smarter than this. I guess I failed."

"Pops, no, no." Booth tried to get up out of bed, but found that the numbness from the medication and stiffness of his back brace were going to prevent much movement. "You did a great job. Besides, it was just a dream. I dream about Halle Berry too, but that doesn't mean I need to profess my love to her."

"No one great got anywhere by just dreaming about things. Grow a set and stop beating around the bush." Hank stared at Booth, intending for his point to be made.

Booth decided the conversation was a tad on the weighty side and offered an alternative. "So when are we eating? I'm starving."

Hank shook his head. "I'm not surprised. You've only had hospital food in between your dream comas. Temperance went out to get groceries for macaroni and cheese. I offered to make grilled cheese, but she insisted. She's missing out."

"Ohhh, Pops. No! Her macaroni and cheese is the best. You'll see, it's incredible."

* * *

><p>Brennan checked off the ingredients in her head as they ticked down the conveyor. She had the macaroni in mind when she asked if Booth could be released. For some reason she could not fathom, she felt an obligation to Booth and his well-being, at least as it was pertinent with Parker being sick. She wondered if there was anyone that could take care of him, but realized that only her friends at the lab were close enough to Booth to even visit him in the hospital. The responsibility seemed to lie solely with her.<p>

She hadn't anticipated Hank, so the groceries she'd purchased were not sufficient. Knowing from her conversations with Hank, she decided that Jared and Padme and Parker should be invited to the meal as well to see Hank while he was in town so mysteriously.

While she loaded the groceries into her car, she felt sad. Although she was happy that Booth could have his family together for at least a little while, she mourned the family that she did not have. Sure, her brother and father were back in her life, but there was something about Booth's family that seemed more put-together and loving. She supposed it was because there was less deceit in their history.

She drove to meet Rebecca and pick Parker up. He was bouncing at the thought of having a group of his favorite people all in the same room, and spoke of that excitement nearly nonstop until they reached Booth's apartment.

"I'm gonna ask my dad if we can do some science experiments at home. They're really easy, like, a baby could do them." He smiled at Bones, offering a silent invitation to join them in their scientific endeavors.

"You just have to remember that your father can't move as well as he was before he fell. He'll be fine with time but until then you may have to help him out."

Parker nodded vigorously and agreed. They carried the groceries upstairs and found that Jared and Padme had already arrived. Brennan noted the joviality in Booth's tone and mannerisms. She deduced seeing his entire family together was a catalyst for the mood shift, and was pleased with herself for concocting such an opportunity.

When the meal was ready, they all sat down, said a prayer and began to eat. Brennan received even more confirmation of the success of the evening as compliments rolled in on her macaroni and cheese. They ate in near silence as the food was being consumed until they heard a knock on the door.

"Who's that?" Booth asked, directed to Brennan.

"These are the only people I invited, and Rebecca is letting Parker stay here tonight…"

Glances were exchanged around the table as another knock came at the door.

"I'll get it!" Parker ran from the table to the door. "Uh, Bones, can you unlock this top part? I can't reach it." She nodded and looked through the peephole, scrunching her features when she saw someone she didn't know.

"I'll get the door, Parker." Parker stepped back to allow her to open the door. When she did, the man on the other side simply said, "Well you must be Dr. Brennan." She turned around to see if Booth knew the man.

She then carefully read the faces still at the table, and realized she and Parker were the only two that didn't recognize the man.


	18. The Commonality

**AN: Before you get all crazy on me, I did this one a little different. I am obviously writing this story from a 3rd person omniscient POV, but I felt that this scene deserved to be told from three perspectives. All which are very different - despite seeing and hearing the same things. Let me know what you think... I'll respond to anyone willing to share, PLEASE! LOVE you all. -zee**

* * *

><p>Brennan looked back at the man in the doorway. <em>Should I know who he is? His bone structure is very familiar…<em>

"Edwin Booth, ma'am." He offered his hand to shake, but Brennan had gained the same shock as the other dinner guests at the table. All but Hank.

Hank stood slowly from his seat. He stared the visitor in the eyes, visibly attempting to communicate an idea he was not willing to share with the rest of them. Brennan backed away from the doorway as Hank filled the space. Parker was staring at the man, unsure what to make of him.

"Bones, who is he?" he asked, looking up at her. She was unsure how to answer the question. For biological purposes, this man before them was Booth's father – but she knew from the little conversation she'd had with Booth and Hank, that he was nothing of the sort emotionally.

Brennan placed a hand on Parker's shoulder and led him away from the door. She invested little stock in psychology, but did believe that humans had set patterns. Not knowing whether Edwin Booth was still as aggressive as the stories he'd been portrayed him made her hesitant to take a chance with a young boy nearby.

She turned around to walk Parker and herself back towards the table with the guests. She instantly made eye contact with Booth. His eyes were glassy and wet. His jaw was set in a rigid line, teeth pressed firmly together. The rise and fall of his chest indicated that his breathing had become labored from his elevated heart rate. His hands were clenched into tight, strong fists on the arms of his wheelchair.

Brennan quietly asked Parker to go to his room and he obeyed; in some capacity, he knew that the situation had taken a tense turn. Upon receiving this request, he rubbed his bald head back and forth and shrugged. There was an understanding between him and Brennan in which he trusted her expertise on matters and she treated him as an equal, rather than an inferior.

Brennan looked once more to Booth. It pained her to see him like this. She remembered seeing her own father for the first time since he'd abandoned her. He was impersonating a priest, but she had to admit this seemed a lot worse. She felt an emotional reaction rise in her body. Her eyes, too, became glassy with tears. _ Because my menstrual cycle is due shortly, the excess hormones in my body are manifesting in an emotional way._

But there was no chemical or biological explanation in her mind for why she felt so horrible for Booth in that moment. Only the past experience drove her feeling of immediate distrust towards the man. If for no other reason, because Booth seemed to distrust him at this moment.

Booth shook as he said only one word, staring at his father.

"No."

His word was all she needed to form her opinion.

* * *

><p>The dinner had been magnificent. Sweets and Brennan managed to pull a table to the middle of the living room and assemble as many chairs as they could find around the table. As he looked around the table, he noticed Brennan's macaroni and cheese was to die for as usual. <em>Never in my life have I eaten asparagus and enjoyed it, <em>Booth thought. Nor had he ever seen his grandfather or brother eating it so heartily.

When they heard a knock on the door, Parker immediately volunteered to get it. _Like father, like son._

Brennan got up from the table to help Parker with the door. Booth wondered who it could be. Many times, he'd have daydreams about Brennan meeting some celebrity at a book event or gala in her honor she wasn't aware was famous and becoming friends with them – then introducing him to them as her handsome and rugged partner, _Special Agent Seeley Booth._

He quickly allowed celebrities to pop into his head he'd like to meet – mostly athletes, some action movie stars, famous coaches. He smiled at the thought that she might have invited someone else special.

His smile faded as the door opened.

_What the fuck? _His first thought was, _Why the hell would Bones invite him here? How did she get in touch with him? How did she know how to find him? I've been looking for years._

However, it was quite unmistakable that Brennan firstly had no idea who the visitor was and secondly had not invited him to the dinner. She looked back to the table, confused, surely finding that she and Parker were the only ones who hadn't met the man – Booth knew for a fact that Padme had seen home videos of Ed in Jared's attempt to have a completely open relationship with her.

"Edwin Booth, ma'am." Booth's blood boiled as he saw Joseph extend his hand to his partner. Booth grew incredibly frustrated – he was stuck in this chair with no anticipated ability to get up soon, much less be prepared to protect his family if the need presented itself.

Pops got up from the table and approached him. _Pops knew about this? _Booth couldn't fathom another reason why Pops would be so calm in the moment. This man abandoned them. He was greyer, heavier, and looked tired. Booth couldn't help but see the resemblance between the stranger and his own reflection.

He became irate. Booth's own son was standing there next to Brennan. Booth's eyes did not stray from his estranged father, but from his periphery, he could see Brennan escort Parker from the door and sent him to his room. Despite being thankful for the actions she carried out that he could not either physically or emotionally, he couldn't help but think, _She must see me as incapable of taking care of my own kid._

His worry was unfounded. Brennan turned around again and looked right at him. Booth caught her large blue eyes and saw that she also had tears threatening to fall. _I feel enough like shit that I have to have people do things for me, I can't even get up to answer the door to my own damn apartment. And now I might cry? This is a new low. _There was something about seeing the once-impervious scientist misty. He'd seen her cry on only the rarest of occasions, and to his knowledge, she (and the rest of the world) had only seen him cry two or three times.

_No. This isn't happening this way. _He knew the tears in her eyes were because it reminded her of her own bitter reunion with her father. Although they were not on the worst of terms, it had been a tumultuous period in her life. To be completely fair, he wanted to think that her life had been in a constant state of flux since she partnered up with him.

He broke eye contact and looked back towards the doorway where Pops was quietly offering suggestions of where to go until they could 'figure something out.' _I love you, Pops, but nothing is going to be figured out. We figured it out. He left. He didn't care enough to stay. No. No way this is happening. No. No. No._

He shook as he thought the words. It wasn't until the rest of the dinner guests turned their attention to him he realized he'd vocalized it.

* * *

><p>Ed Booth said goodbye to the sweet old woman and ascended the stairs towards the apartment where the 'big, handsome, government man' was said to live. He'd waited as long as he could, dropping his father off earlier. Hank told him to not show up until he'd made absolutely sure that he'd be welcomed with open arms.<p>

Knowing his sons and grandson were just a doorway away made the wait that much more unbearable. He approached the door and heard laughing and conversation. _Here goes nothing._

Ed knocked on the door loudly - if not to overcome the noise coming from inside, then out of pure nerves. Seeing his own father for the first time since he'd been sent away was enough. The homecoming had been kind enough, filled with admissions of regret and apologies. Hank agreed to try to get them all together again, justifying that Parker and Seeley's health conditions warranted a visit, not to mention Seeley's decreased ability to fight it.

He heard small feet padding on the wood floor, running to the door. A boy called for a 'Bones' to help him open the door. Ed was not thick - he knew this had to be his grandson and the anthropologist Hank talked about.

The door swung open to reveal a frail, bald child and a tall and beautiful woman. _Seeley's got his father's taste, judging by his kid and girlfriend. _The woman looked to the table, then back to Ed.

"Edwin Booth, ma'am." He put a hand out for her to shake, but she denied the gesture. He put his hand back in his pocket, watching as his father walked towards him. The anthropologist turned the young boy away from the door and sent him to his room. _Hank must've forgotten to mention she's his mother. Figures, Seeley not marrying his child's mother._

Hank approached him and mouthed a few things - mostly 'not now's and 'I thought I told you's. Ed was more concerned with the scene inside. Jared and Seeley were both staring at him. He could see rage in their eyes - and tears in Seeley's. So many years ago, he'd looked at the same tear-filled eyes and left for what he thought might be forever. Seeley broke eye contact only to look to the woman at his right.

This short scene and exchange between Brennan, Booth, and Parker were not lost on Ed Booth. _This is a family. This is what we should have been. _Hank put his hand on Ed's chest, hoping to dissuade him from any possible forward movements into the home. Hank mentioned going back to the hotel to talk about what to do at this point, but Ed heard only one word from the son he'd been so eager to see again. It was clear that the feelings were not mutual.

"No."


	19. The Prayer

"_No."_

His apartment was filled with trinkets and furniture, many pieces that had been picked up from antique stores and estate sales. Sweets had once classified him as a Level One hoarder for his interest in these eclectic pieces. However, no density of collectibles or unique furniture could muffle Booth's response. It had an odd sort of echo that carried and filled the room.

He was shaking – vibrating from the anger and sorrow that welled up inside of him. In a way, he'd seen past his insecurities of feeling weak and wounded. Enough for his protective instincts to kick in.

Brennan would say something about hormones being released and his alpha male tendencies taking precedence over his own sensitivity. He simply thought of it as getting pissed at the jackass that showed up unannounced at his door.

He glared at the doorway as Hank steered Ed back further into the hallway. Hank turned and glanced at Booth once more. There was obvious pain. While irate about the fact that the man who had abused him – formerly his father – was within a hundred yards of him, he knew that Pops had pure intentions whiter than snow. He'd never misled Booth, and somewhere behind the steel-faced rage, Booth accepted this.

No one in the room could have guessed who would speak first, but after a few seconds of silence filled only by the heavy respirations of Booth Padme asserted a question.

"Was that…"

Jared, head hung looking to his lap, simply nodded. Jared was much younger than Booth when his father left. He'd been spared of most of the abuse of his father thanks to his human shield of a brother. Booth had neglected even in later life to truly express to Jared just how much he'd sacrificed for him. The burden, Booth thought, was unnecessary for Jared to shoulder considering that he'd already taken it.

Booth suddenly whipped his wheelchair around and headed straight for his room. The door slammed behind him, causing Padme to burst into tiny, controlled sobs. Jared stood, turning to a stone-still Brennan.

"I think we're going to leave." He crossed the floor and gathered Padme's coat and scarf. As he helped them on, he said, "Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, alright? Call if he shows up again. I may be sober, but I can still fight like a drunk."

Brennan nodded. The two slipped out, letting in a quick gust of cold air from the hallway. She quickly shut the door and began to pull plates from the table. Her mind flitted effortlessly from the stressful scene only moments before to the task at hand.

It wasn't terribly long after she'd begun to clear the table that Parker emerged from his room. He approached the table and hesitantly picked up silverware in handfuls to take to the kitchen. Brennan smiled at him and simply gave him a "Thanks." The pair worked in perfect synchronization.

When it came time to wash and dry the dishes, Brennan silently cursed the fact that Booth did not have a dishwasher. The nostalgic and distressing memories she'd forced to take a backseat earlier resurfaced. It was nothing she felt she couldn't handle, but unsettling nonetheless.

She'd had about enough of the epinephrine pulsing through her veins as she and Parker finished loading the dishes. She decided that her best option was to dismiss herself as Jared and Padme had spend some time at the lab setting her mind straight again. But first she'd tell Booth.

She knocked softly at the door, not sure of what reaction she should anticipate. Hearing nothing, she granted access by justifying that no response was probably just apathy. Booth knelt on the floor, elbows bent on the bed with his head down. Quickly assessing the scene, Brennan assumed he'd fell and ran to his side.

"Booth, I can help you up – " She reached her hands around his left arm to lift him.

"Can'tcha see I'm praying, Bones?" he shook her hands off of his arm and leaned his head down once more.

"It looks more like you lost your balance."

Booth opened one eye and turned his head slightly toward Brennan. "I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go."

Brennan's face scrunched at his statement. "There were plenty of places, Booth. You could have sat on your bed, or the floor, or your chair if it weren't covered in your soiled laundry."

"It's not literal, Bones. Lincoln said it, not me."

Under her breath, Brennan recalled, "Your favorite."

"Ha," Booth smiled, "you remembered?"

"Because of the irony of…" she paused. _Mentioning his ironic lineage would be ill-advised in his current mood. _"…your circumstances, I had no issue recalling that fact."

Booth continued to smile at her and gestured her towards him. "Help me up, will ya?" With a groan, he lifted himself into the wheelchair once again with her help. "Thanks, Bones. So where's the fire?"

Brennan's brows furrowed. Booth recognized the look and clarified "What was so important that you needed to interrupt me?"

She catalogued the phrase. "I think I'm going to leave now. I've cleaned up the table and everything from dinner with Parker's help."

"Oh, Parker, how is he?" Booth realized he's neglected his son in the process of avoiding punching through a wall.

"I didn't care to ask, but he probably knows what is going on. He's very intelligent, Booth."

"Oh, I know, Bones. Well, thanks then for cleaning up. I really do appreciate it. It was unnecessary."

She led the way out of the room with him behind her. "I don't mind so much." She pulled her coat and scarf on and opened the door. Before exiting, she turned, unsure of how to approach what she wanted to say.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Booth. About it all. I probably should have inquired more thoroughly about Hank's sudden arrival here. I hope you aren't too upset about it."

He couldn't help but hear the misplaced disappointment in her voice. He could tell she was genuinely bothered by the recent turn of events.

"Bones, you brought my family together. It was perfect until he showed up – which was none of your fault. Besides, there's got to be leftovers of that mac n' cheese since everyone left early." He flashed her a smile layered with tired frustration and genuine appreciation.

She smiled in return. "It's in a container in the refrigerator. See you later Booth."

He simply waved as she closed the door behind her. Booth wondered if she realized her effect on people. Or him. It seemed to him that her presence carried a certain weight; a carelessness of sorts, the feeling could be likened to a childlike attachment to something. When she left, it was as if the world went dull and lifeless. It was a feeling he'd encountered for years now with no sign of an eventual cure.

"You're going down!" Parker yelled, fingers clicking furiously on the game controller. Booth knew a conversation needed to be had, but was unwilling to bring it up sooner than it had to be. Unfortunately, it couldn't wait for their next round of Mario Cart.

"Dad…" Parker set his controller down next to him on the couch and interlaced his hands together on his lap, seemingly preparing for what he knew to be a difficult conversation. "…who was the man that came to the door yesterday?"

Booth set his controller down and sighed as Parker continued. "He said his name was Edwin Booth, Dad. That's our name. Is he…"

"He's my father, Parks." Parker shifted in his seat, eager to ask another question. Booth predicted the content. "I know I told you that I don't have a Dad like your mom does – "

"Or like me." Parker looked up at Booth.

"Or like you." He was pleased that there was a discernible difference in Parker's mind already. "But it's not because he passed away. He… he did some bad things when I was around your age, Parks. He didn't want to stay and be a good dad to Uncle Jared and me."

"How long did he go away?" Parker seemed upset.

"Today was the first time I saw him since I was really little." Booth nearly couldn't stand looking Parker in the eyes. They were big and glassy. Parker's glassy eyes were a testament to his innocence. He was unscathed by society for the most part – despite his parents never being together in his life, he was fairly naïve when it came to a person's ability to commit horrendous acts.

"Did you think he was going to do bad things again? Is that why you were mad?" But sometimes, he got it.

"Well," Booth knew that approaching the subject had to be strategic. There was not room for error when unleashing a particularly sensitive subject with such a smart kid.

"You know how I miss you when you go to your mom's? How I tell you how glad I am you're here when you come see me on the weekends?"

A smile braved Parker's lips. "Yeah. Just like I am."

"That's right. And you know why I miss you so much?" He placed his hand on Parker's shoulder.

"Because you love me. Yeah, I know Dad. You tell me every time."

"That's because I mean it, bub. When my father left, he didn't come back. He didn't miss me like I miss you every second I'm away from you. He didn't love me." The last admission was hard to release.

"But he came back. Are you mad because you think he missed you?" Parker now looked confused, the pieces not fitting the way Booth intended.

"Not exactly, Parks. He was mean to me when he was still around and then he left. He wasn't a good dad."

"Like you." Parker gazed up at Booth, understanding a portion of the pain.

Booth responded wordlessly by pulling Parker into his arms and squeezing him tightly.

"I love you Dad," Parker choked out, "but I can't breathe. And I still need to kick some Bowser butt."

Booth released him to look at him incredulously. "And you think you're going to do that playing as Yoshi? You're on, little man."

Just as Parker brought the system back to life, Booth felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Knowing his time with Parker for this weekend was coming to a close, he ignored it.


	20. The Interruption

**** AN: Hello, everyone... I felt awful for having been gone for so long, hence the releasing of two chapters in two days.  
>However, I do have a favor to ask of you... let me know how I'm doing. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to me to have motivation to continue on. I have plenty of ideas, but I'd like to hear from you! Whether you're just reading for the first time or you've been skulking around the story for a while secretly... Let me know what you want to see! brennanize and alexindigo may even be able to attest to the fact that I do take suggestions into consideration!<strong>**

**Thanks in advance! love.**  
><strong>-zee<strong>

* * *

><p>"BOOTH!"<p>

She slammed the door open and let herself inside. With one hand tightly clasped over her eyes, she ventured in to the bathroom and waited for a response.

Booth 's hand flew out of the shower, slapping the wall where his towel bar hung – but no towel.

"Damnit, Bones, you don't have any sense of boundaries, do you? Couldn't you wait outside or something?"

She walked closer to where she heard the voice, but stopped, worried she'd trip over stray garments he'd inevitably left foolishly on the already dampened floor.

"Are you wearing your brace, Booth?" She propped herself against the bathroom sink, waiting.

"Yeah, Bones, I am. Now do me a favor and grab a towel, since you obviously can't wait to talk to me."

She wandered out of the room and found a towel. Tossing it over the shower curtain, she exited the room and sat patiently on Booth's bed.

He called to her from behind the closed door. "So what is this that can't wait, Bones?"

"Hank called me. He said you wouldn't take his calls."

Booth hadn't even looked at his phone since Rebecca picked Parker up the day before. _I guess that's why it rang off the hook 'til I turned it off._

"I had to make sure you didn't slip and fall and were unable to get to the phone. I presume you simply ignored the calls, as you are notorious for doing that sort of thing."

Booth wrapped himself in the towel and slowly shuffled to the door of his room. "What did he have to say?" The question came across more accusatory than he'd hoped.

"He wanted to talk about your father. About him being here."

He trudged towards the door, slid it open once more and discovered himself unable to speak. He'd envisioned this moment for years – he was half-nude and Brennan was waiting for him on his bed. Sadly, the reality stung. The back brace and the fact that she was speaking of his estranged father and not cooing sultry nothings served as an ample pin to pop his euphoric bubble.

"Booth! You should be sitting! You're not going to heal properly if you don't allow your joints to properly realign." She stomped into the bathroom to retrieve the wheelchair he'd discarded.

"Bones, come on, who do you think you are, my mother? I can handle the consequences of not taking good care of my back. Besides, I've had a bad back for years. How come it's always gotten better, huh?"

"Mostly because you are stubborn and refuse to accept the medical opinions of those who possess more knowledge than you." She rolled the wheelchair to the middle of his bedroom and crossed her arms.

"Oh, like you, I suppose?" He gathered clothes from his drawers, clearly enjoying the tête-à-tête.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Booth. I am more than experienced enough to make statements regarding your care and treatment of your injuries. I am also uniquely qualified because I have a background in kinesiology and witnessed your injury. It's not something you should treat so imprudently."

"Well I've got a background too. It was _my _back on the ground. Therefore I'm uniquely qualified to tell you to shut up." With the last two words, he turned and waggled his eyebrows smugly.

"Falling down gives you no additional insight into whether I should adjust my volume, Booth."

He flopped his hands by his side and leaned his head back. _She can be incredibly frustrating – especially when I can't tell the difference between her misunderstanding and playing along._

"Can you get out of here so I can change now, Bones? You can tell me about your fun little phone call as soon as I'm properly clothed." He patted her out of the room. _What a buzzkill._

* * *

><p>"That's all he said?"<p>

"Yes, Booth. Only that he was looking for you and making sure that you were alright. He wanted to speak with you about your father being in town."

"Nuh uh." Booth gestured his hands back and forth like an ump calling a runner safe and shook his head. If there was one thing he was adamant about, it was keeping that man out of his life. Booth survived an early childhood of beatings and abuse only to be forced to use his accomplishments and commendations to mask the scars, both literally and figuratively.

He'd thought about it when they'd investigated the murder in the underground rock scene. He and Brennan were so different in so many ways, but it seemed that some of the most incredible things were eerily similar. Their success in their respective fields allowed an escape of sorts from their troubled pasts. Runaway parents, apathetic siblings, abuse.

Booth often imagined these struggles as a mountain they had both climbed. Meeting somewhere halfway up, he realized he wasn't alone. She, on the other hand, hadn't seemed to notice she was alone to begin with. They now continued the trek up the mountain together – sort of. He'd known from the minute he saw her it was fate. In his opinion, she believed it too – only not in so many words.

"No way, no how am I talking to that monster. Or letting him anywhere near any of you again. You all are my family, not him." Booth took a swig from his beer, leaning back on the sofa.

Brennan's quick mind didn't miss the context of his statement. She wrote it off as a coincidence of her being present when Ed showed up – with the rest of his family also present. "I think Hank felt it important to speak with you at your earliest convenience."

"Well then Bones," he dropped his head back and closed his eyes, "he's just going to have to wait a while. I'm not sure this conversation will ever be _convenient."_

Brennan calculated her next move. Hank practically begged her to get his grandson to call back. She felt that his intentions were pure and agreed. However she felt that 'the big guns' (as Booth would call them) should be used if she didn't want to be forced to use her most effective force: feminine wiles. "Pops is not in paramount health, Booth. You would be upset if…"

Her strategy took as Booth's head popped up. "Whoa, now, Bones. Where'd ya learn to do that? Using my elderly grandfather to make me do what you want? Isn't that a bit low?"

She shrugged. "It was either that or I was going to have to seduce you."

Booth's heart rate immediately jumped. Her face betrayed not a single note of jest. _She must really find this to be important. _

"It's a psychological tactic, Booth. I appealed to your emotions to elicit a response from you. Judging by the look on your face, it seems it may have worked?"

Booth drew his attention reluctantly from a daydream about her method failing and resorting to the other measure. _She has a point. I don't want to ignore Pops but I sure as fuck don't want to talk to that – that…_

Her phone's generic ring broke his internal monologue. She dug in her coat pocket for it and looking at the caller ID, decided to excuse herself from her seat to take the call.

"Brennan. "

Booth strained to hear the muffled voice on the other end of the line. He found it somewhat easy after having served as a sniper. Hearing even a pin drop could mean the difference in life or death. It was Pops, undoubtedly trying to get to him again.

"Yes, actually that was what I was doing before you called."

"Yes, I will make sure to emphasize that."

"Of course, I will let you know as soon as possible."

"Yes, you too." She hung up the phone and sat back down.

"Booth."

The name lit a fire in him every time she said it, but this time, it felt like a slow burn; a painful and blistering shoulder that yielded more charring than melt. Her face was very serious, and he could see the muscles at her temples contract furiously as she thought about how to go on.

"Do you remember when my dad came back? You told me it was because he didn't want to abandon me again. It forced the two of you into an altercation. I didn't understand then, but there was more to my parents leaving Russ and me than I initially thought."

She stopped there, knowing that relinquishing the secret Hank entrusted to her was something she could not take back. It would change things – the issue was not with the power of the knowledge itself, but with whether it would have a positive or negative outcome once released.

She continued, "I am quite aware that I am not a foremost expert on child psychology, nor do I see it as a reliably source for quantifiable data, but I believe that in a controlled environment, there is a chance that you will feel less anger towards your father if you speak with him."

She sighed. It was difficult for her to express just how thankful she'd been to have her father in her life again. Although he'd missed some of the most tumultuous years, she knew he'd always been thinking about her. She wished that Booth could get just a glimpse of this relief. He'd played Atlas long enough, his back now broken with the pressure of it all (she was pleased with herself for forming a metaphor of her own that translated into reality quite smoothly).

"Bones, as much as I appreciate you trying, I don't want to talk to my dad. You don't understand what I'm dealing with here." Almost immediately after the words left his lips, he regretted liberating them. Brennan took advantage of the mistake and quickly fired back.

"I did not suffer the physical trauma from my parents that you did, Booth, but I might as well have. Leaving me in a foster system once Russ left me allowed others to do that in their place."

Booth didn't dare speak. He knew if nothing else, getting her two cents in would allow her to express the emotions she classically kept off display. Interrupting at this point would only drive her further into her shell. Besides, he found it incredibly captivating to see her arguing any point with gusto and conviction.

"It would be foolish for me to tell you I thought that seeing your father again would be a smooth and effortless process, Booth. But as I've said before, change is inescapable. And one of the qualities I admire most in you is your belief that people can be good – although I do not hold such ephemeral concepts in high esteem, I suspect you are correct. You give people a chance to do the right thing. You allow them time to change and you believe they can make that change. You gave my dad that chance, and you've given me the chance as well."

"What I can't comprehend is why you cannot allow your own father the same luxury. Your father did some deplorable things I am positive. However, there must be a far-too-complex system for rating someone's character if my murdererous, lying, cheating, thief of a father warrants your attention more than your own. Especially considering his curious disappearance."

The last sentence trailed her speech awkwardly. She meant to say it, but ventured to hope that Booth would not pick up on the hint.

Booth stared at her. She indeed had become so much different than when he met her, and even since she'd been reunited with Max. The old Brennan would not have bothered to stop by to check on him, she wouldn't have dared speak of her own family, and she sure as hell would not have glassy, tear-laden eyes.

Booth reached for her hand and squeezed it. He'd doubted in recent months if she'd ever have the capacity to care for him the way he had for her. In this moment, he realized that despite her divergent classifications of her feelings about him, she cared deeply about his well-being. He also sensed that something lurked beneath the surface. Something he didn't know and she surely was not willing to share.

He held her hand in his and lifted her chin. She refused to let the dam break and in turn did not accept the eye contact he'd aimed for. Nevertheless, he answered.

"I'll do it Bones, but only because I would be a terrible example if I didn't."

She nodded, knowing her mission had been accomplished, unfortunately, she hadn't come out unscathed. She knew she'd be there with him, but it pained her to relive the torment of her own life once again. Earnestly, she offered just two words to him.

"Thank you."


	21. The Apology

She stared out the window at the patrons hurrying along. Most wore long coats or hats in preparation; the sky was an ominous blue-grey, threatening to release the snow drifts that had been predicted weeks prior. She hugged her own coat tighter around her, blocking the cold air radiating off of the Diner's glass.

He arrived soon thereafter, sporting better clothes than she'd seen him in since he'd been propelled off of a suspect's deck – no doubt, a sign of his own insecurity. He quickly whipped his gloves off as he entered the Diner, jamming them into the pocket of his coat. He caught Brennan's eye.

The corner of his mouth turned upwards ever so slightly for but a brief moment. There was an understanding that today was not going to be a great day, rather, nauseatingly necessary. Never the less, she would be there and for that he was grateful.

He sat opposite her and felt a slight twinge of relief as he saw her. Her eyes melted him- he'd never known anyone so able to communicate with him with not a single word. He was nearly sure she was unaware of the effect she had on him. If it hadn't been made clear when they were separated after finding out about Parker's illness, it was evident now.

She smiled sweetly and cocked her head to the side. Her brows furrowed. It was one of the most adorable things Booth had ever seen.

"Something wrong, Bones?" He set his jacket on the seat back of the chair next to him, tilting his head to meet the angle of hers.

She cautiously slid a plate across the table. "I got you a piece of pie. Angela said when conversations are difficult, it is often easier to have something to preoccupy your gaze so that you do not feel obligated to make eye contact. I personally find it comforting in some capacity to eat in stressful situations. When I was writing my dissertation for kinesiology, I ate a bag of red licorice each night. I was aware that they contained no nutritional value to aid my neural function, but they seemed to elevate my mood quite effectively."

Booth laughed and marveled at the woman seated across the table from him. She smiled sweetly and waited for him to take a bite. "Blackberry, huh, Bones? It's great. Thanks." He took a bite and set the fork down as something caught his eye. Brennan observed as his entire body seemed to tighten. She turned and fixed her attention in the same direction as his.

Crossing the street were Hank and Ed. Booth immediately regretted his decision to meet. "I… I can't Bones, I'll see ya later, alright?" He fumbled pulling his jacket off of the back of his chair while still seated and it fell to the floor. Brennan stood and picked his jacket up and settled into the chair next to him.

She gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this, Booth." The diner door opened. Brennan stood to direct the pair to the table. The moment of truth had arrived.

* * *

><p>After ordering coffees and enduring the silence, all three Booth men were on edge. None of the three were sure what made the situation the strangest: the company of Brennan, the topic at hand, or the public forum in which they'd met. Joseph, feeling the most responsible for the silence, spoke first.<p>

"Should we go somewhere more private…" he trailed off as he was swiftly interrupted.

"No," Booth grumbled. Brennan observed his almost pouting response and did what she'd seen Booth do so many times over the years of their partnership – she explained.

"I think what Booth was trying to say," Booth shot her a pained look, almost begging her to leave out his insecurity and uncomfort in the situation, "was that he wants to stay here. If I understood his wishes correctly, he wanted to make sure you couldn't pull any crap. I assume you know the meaning of this statement, because my knowledge of the colloquialism 'crap' does not seem to fit the current circumstances."

Hank smiled. He looked over to Ed and elbowed him. "You have to listen to this one here real carefully. She'll say stuff that you can't understand but it's funny anyway." Hank turned back to Brennan and smiled. She returned it out of kindness rather than authenticity.

"So I heard." Ed finally spoke. "I've heard a lot about you two solving cases and just plain gettin' shit done."

Booth did all he could to not leap across the table and strangle the man. The fact that he'd kept up with him and never contacted him angered Booth. In fact, Booth was not sure if he was more pissed that he'd come around or that he hadn't come around until now.

"Seeley," Hank quietly offered. Booth kept his head aimed at the tabletop. "I want to tell you about what happened. I… I wanted to apologize for this being so sudden. It wasn't meant to come right out and scare ya. It wasn't until last week that your – that Ed came to see me in the home. Believe me, I almost had a damn heart attack. I thought I might have to try to fight him off with ol' Mable's cane.

"But luckily I didn't – he had things to say, Seel." He looked to Ed, whose head hung in shame. "He wants to know you and Jared." Booth's temper flared at the mention of his brother's name. Upon arrival, Jared and Padme left the country, no doubt avoiding the impending conflict. _He takes after our father more than I thought. _

But no absence could put him on edge like Hank's next statement.

"He wants to get to know _you. And Parker." _ Booth's legs bounced relentlessly under the table. For a sniper, he felt pretty unnerved and unbalanced. As quickly as he'd forgotten she was there, Brennan softly placed her left hand on his thigh. He discontinued the nervous habit and looked up from the table for the first time since his father and grandfather sat down.

There was a coolness to her eyes. No pity, no prodding, no false look of understanding. Just calm. He wondered to himself whether she was calm because she'd compartmentalized or because she'd had nearly the same conversation with her own father with a positive outcome. _Knowing Bones, she's just sitting there analyzing how similar we all look. Aren't we just special with our daddy issues?_

His eyes returned to the plate before him. Although admittedly inanimate, the pie seemed friendly. _Just one more encouragement to press on with the conversation along with the blue pools on legs to my right and my overwhelming guilty conscience. _

No sooner than he'd determined he could carry on sanely did he wish he hadn't. Ed spoke. "Seeley, I just need you to know how sorry I am for what I've done. I deserve nothing more than for you to never speak to me ever again. You couldn't trust me then and you sure as hell don't want to trust me now…"

His words droned out as Booth picked up his fork and ate his pie. It felt childish to sit at the table and listen to his father babble on about something he had no interest in. Like when his father sat him down when he was 6 to explain why he could not play hockey in the house. The words fell on deaf ears.

All the while, Brennan listened for support. She knew from being friends with Angela that although a conversation may not pertain to her, having knowledge of what was said would make it easier for her to relate to him later – _that is, if Booth wants to._

"So what do you say, Seeley? Do you think we could try?" Ed's face was tight, similar to Booth's when attempting to 'suck it up' and not cry like a little girl.

Booth continued stabbing at his pie. Hank, desperate for anything to happen rather than sitting idly, reemphasized the question. "How 'bout it, Shrimp, do you think you can forgive him?"

At the sound of his nickname, Booth found himself reminiscing on his childhood.

"_How dare you be late again! I told you if you were late one more time, I'd… I'd…" he took a drag from the bourbon seemingly glued to his hand._

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! My coach held me after the game and I didn't want to get kicked off the team…"_

"_I don't give a flying fuck! When I tell you to do something, you do it!" He tipped the bottle to his lips once more and emptied it. He stumbled to the boy sitting at the kitchen table and leaned in close to his face. Seeley could feel and smell his thick breath on him and leaned back to escape the odor. _

"_Oh, so you're scared of me, are you?" Ed reared back and slammed the bottle into the crown of Seeley's head. The boy's head slammed into the table, rendering him temporarily unconscious. From the other side of the house, Ed heard whimpers. He slunk to the doorway of the kitchen and looked into the common area. Jared stood in the doorway of the room he shared with Seeley crying, food crusted over his face and shirt. _

"_I thought I told you that crying was for girls, Jared! Don't make me come over there and beat the tears right out of you!" Jared turned on a dime and disappeared into the room. Ed turned his attention back to his oldest son, now stirring back into consciousness. A single tear escaped his eye as he sat up slowly. This tear did not evade his father's drunken awareness. _

"_I thought I warned you two about crying!" Ed swung wide and planted a firm slap to the side of Seeley's face. "I'll give you something to cry about. You forget that I am still your father. There is nothing you can do about it."_

_Ed tilted the chair over, depositing Seeley in the floor. He kicked Seeley once in the ribs and used his foot to roll him onto his back. Ed crouched down over Seeley's cowering frame and grasped a handful of his hair in his hand. Yanking upwards, he drew their faces mere inches apart. "One more tear and I swear, I'll kill you myself." He slammed Seeley's head into the tile floor and slammed the front door before driving off._

_Seeley lay in the floor until the next morning. His father picked him up and set him on the couch. Seeley heard his father's feverish attempt at mopping the floor – at this point, covered in blood splatters. Seeley pushed himself to a sitting position and rose. He walked slowly to the kitchen and saw his father sweeping up shards of glass. _

_Ed looked at Seeley and pleaded in what Seeley chose to believe was a sincere tone. "Please forgive me. It won't happen again, Seel. I promise. Just don't tell Pops what happened. It was a mistake, you know?" _

Booth stood from the table, flipping it over onto Hank and Ed. "NO!" He was furious. Remembering the pain was only the beginning. He knew that with a flick of the wrist, he could let his fingers graze the very scar on the back of his head Ed inflicted all those years ago. Grabbing his coat and tossing his chair aside, he stormed past Brennan and straight through the diner doors.

Ed flipped the table upright once more and shrugged. "I should have known that he probably wouldn't come around at first. Acting like a four year-old though, that was unexpected. Especially how he's only said 'No' whenever spoken to. Like it's his favorite word all over again." He laughed uncomfortably.

Brennan, incensed beyond her own comprehension, took one look at the man and slapped him, his head hitting the cold glass of the window. She followed Booth's lead, grabbing her coat and jogging briskly in the same direction of her partner. She felt both strange sense of uncertainty and satisfaction as she caught up to him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Um, who can't wait for the Male in the Mail? I am on the edge of my seat. Well, bed. I've speculated (see above) about what would happen if Booth's dad came into the picture... or even if Booth had to deal with the issues surrounding his childhood. AGH! Let me know what you think... and I tell ya what, if you'll review me, I'd love to message you back and get some feedback on a few directions I'm thinking of going in. Let me know. I would love to hear from you!<strong>

(Especially all you silent creepers out there... there is an Anon option, you know. But don't be afraid to just come right out and say hello!)

**love. **

**-zee**


	22. The Gloves

**AN: Apologies for having an AN at the beginning - but it was brought to my attention that a change needed to be made... the Bones app by Fox for iPods, etc. has a letter that was sent to Booth's dad - listing his name as _Edwin Miles Booth. _Wanting to be in context and factually correct, I have changed the name in all chapters to Edwin/Ed. If you see any I missed, let me know. **

**Apologies for the inconvenience. But you know I love you all too much to lie to you :)**

**love. -zee**

* * *

><p>"Booth!" The freezing air assaulted Brennan's body as she hastily followed him. She buttoned as she ran, attempting to catch her distraught partner. She finally found his SUV, but didn't see him until frustrated, she kicked the rear passenger wheel, causing Booth to call her out.<p>

"You know if anything happens to this vehicle, I have to pay for it myself, right? And it's not like I am some fancy author with a new book deal." Brennan followed the sound of the voice to find Booth sitting on the back bumper. She sat next to him quietly, contemplating what she should say next.

Booth struggled with the question himself. He'd been brash – ignorant even. He tuned out anything his father had to say because he made up his mind before even walking into the Diner that this was not going to work.

Brennan wondered what she should do. This was not her area of expertise. _Living, breathing people. This is Booth or Angela's territory. _She'd encountered the problem before. She remembered when Booth falsified his own death and trying to comfort Angela. _People die. _That was all she could focus on. It was a well-known fact, but one rarely accessed when headed to a funeral. As much as she'd wanted to just tell Angela that it was only natural, especially in Booth's line of work, she changed her angle.

In the years working with Booth, Brennan dealt with quite a bit of loss. In the course of her life, she'd lost people and things of course, but it wasn't until she partnered up with the FBI guy that she had to face these losses. Angela told her once that Booth made her more human. '_I am just as human as you are, Ange,' _she'd said. _'No, honey, I mean, he's made you softer, empathetic. He's let you be Temperance more, and less Dr. Brennan.'_

It was true. She fought for years for justice of peoples in distant lands that were thousands of years old. She gave them a face and a name, and a cause for their demise. It was now that she was having trouble assessing the body in front of her. _Living, breathing people, _she thought again.

"I'm sorry…" she started.

"I don't know…" he squeaked simultaneously.

The pair looked at each other for an intense moment and laughed. "You go ahead, Bones."

She hesitated for a moment, remembering that she should be waiting for him to speak. He gestured impatiently for her to continue her statement and she went on.

"I'm sorry I pushed you to talk to your dad, Booth. I thought it was the right thing. I believed that because my murdering, torturing father and I were able to salvage a relationship that you and your father talking would yield the same results. Unfortunately, I did not take some important variables into proper consideration and…"

"Bones… geez. Sorry would have been just fine. Besides, you don't even have to say you're sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. You reconnected with your dad just fine and you thought it might be the same with me. You were looking out for me, that's all."

She smiled slightly and wrapped her arms tight around her chest. She appreciated how Booth tended to simplify things. He often told her that she over-thought things to the point of making them into a 'bigger deal' than they needed to be. This didn't seem like the same kind of situation.

"What were you going to say, Booth?"

His elbows were propped on his thighs, spread to allow him to stare at the dark asphalt below. He rolled a die between his fingers and to the other hand. Brennan wasn't totally unobservant – he was clearly unsettled by this.

He closed his eyes as he spoke. "I'm not sure what to do, Bones. Usually I just have a feeling – or a lead. Something that directs me to my next step. But this – this, Bones, I have no idea. The man is my _father," _the last word drew from his lips as a wounded whisper, "and as much as I want to pound his skull into the dirt, I can't help but wonder if I should give him a chance, ya know? What if he has changed? If he quit drinking then what if he… what if… like me. I gambled, right?"

She nodded, not quite following the direction he was headed. "I had a problem – but I started going to meetings and they told me that the keys to recovery were honesty, openmindedness, and willingness. And somehow I stopped. Who am I to tell someone else dealing with an addiction that they don't have the right to be honest?"

"It seems, Booth, that the situation is not as simple as that. He is, in fact, your biological father, and given your history," she paused briefly as he cringed, "there is a lot of damage yet to repair. It is understandable that you would hesitate in accepting his apology." She reached her hand out and touched his, drawing his attention away from his wringing hands.

"Damn, Bones, your hand is freezing. Where the hell are your gloves?"

She raised her eyebrows, unhappy with herself. "I believe that in my rush to escape the embarrassment of striking a grown man in public, I left my gloves on the table at the Diner."

Booth laughed. "Whoa, now! Who the hell did you hit?"

"Your father."

Booth stood still for a moment. "Thanks, Bones." He grabbed her arms and lifted her to stand, placing his arm around her shoulder.

"For what Booth? I acted irrationally and abruptly. It was unfair…"

"Just shut up, Bones. I've been dying to do that for years, and now it's been done for me. By a girl."

"Woman," she corrected. "And I am more skilled in self-defense than most women, so if you are implying that it was more wounding to his ego because I am a woman – "

"You know why I have to keep interrupting you, Bones? Because you blab on when you could just say, 'yeah, that's funny.' Now let's go get your gloves." He led her to walk back towards the diner.

Confused, she asked "But what if he's still there?"

He squeezed her shoulder gently as they walked, "Then I'll just have to be the bigger man and deal with him. And if I can't, you can just hit him again."

Brennan laughed and leaned into Booth's chest. She slipped her right hand into the pocket of his coat to keep warm. Booth felt the brush of her hand on his hip and looked down. Seeing this, he looked up and smiled, ready for whatever the diner had to offer.

* * *

><p>They didn't notice Booth and Brennan were standing behind them until Hank heard her clear her throat.<p>

"Shrimp… _Temperance." _His voice was laced with an apology. He never intended for this meeting to go the way it had, and he certainly hadn't anticipated Brennan being in attendance.

Brennan stepped forward first, placing her hand gently on Hank's. Her soft touch was a testament to a conversation she'd had with Angela – insisting that often, words were not required to help convey a message. She'd seen the positive effects in calming Booth and now Hank. She quickly made a mental note to thank Angela for her insight.

"We are just here to retrieve my gloves."

Booth stepped forward and cautiously brought his eyes to meet his father's. In his years as an agent, he'd learned to read people. He'd learned to tell when they were lying, holding something back, nervous, or scared. It became second nature to him; he sized up anyone he met and determined his next move based on what he'd seen.

Brennan once told him that it was this way with all people, especially aggressive males. She told him, '_In order for men to assert themselves as the alpha male in the given situation, they assess the other competitors and determine if it is wiser to demand superiority or to concede power. It is a simple way of establishing a hierarchy.' _Booth simply thought it was because he didn't take any shit.

Because of this uncanny ability, he was able to determine that the next words that came from his father's mouth were absolutely, certifiably true. It pained him to admit it even to himself : this was very real.

"I want to make this better, son."

Brennan sipped her coffee and listened to the men talk. She found that she was still mildly embarrassed about hitting Ed, despite seeing how Booth swelled with pride when she admitted to it. _Very stoic, _she noted, watching Booth's face as his father chronicled his last twenty years without his family.

She was unsure of how to react to the stories of travail Ed had to share. Most were typical stories from a drunk. He spoke of how he woke up bruised and bloody after a night he couldn't remember. Of how he stood over a friend who'd suffered a gunshot wound to the chest as he died. Of a time when he himself was shot in broad daylight because he'd trusted someone shady.

_Is that really what he is getting to? He's been through difficult times? _She scoffed at the idea that his life had been difficult. Brennan often found herself Jaded at others' trials as compared to hers and her partner's.

But as she fleshed out the comparisons, she realized she saw similarities in her journey and Ed's. Hadn't she woken up in Louisiana in a sort of memory loss? Only months earlier had she kneeled over Vincent Nigel-Murray's body as he bled out? Or shot by a wayward sheriff as she and Booth attempted to prevent his escape?

She couldn't help it. She laughed.

It was the strangest situation she'd been in in a long time. She leaned her head back and enjoyed a lighter moment. Only, the moment was temporary.

All three men at the table stared at her. Booth spoke; visibly irritated.

"Bones! What is so funny?" His scowl did little to squelch her hilarity.

She uttered words in between uncontrollable giggles. "It's just so strange… that… we have something in common!"

Booth looked at her, unbelieving the woman that sat next to him. Hank and Ed shared the same confused looks. She went on, "It's just funny… the amnesia… the friend dying… getting shot…" She bursted into laughter, only fueling the fire that was growing all too rapidly in Booth's core.

"Bones! GET OUT!" Like so many times before, he underestimated his own volume. Brennan immediately ceased and looked at her partner in disbelief. She backpedaled, not knowing what she said that had been worthy of being banished.

"I merely meant that the parallels one can draw from my experience and your father's are quite humorous…"

"There is NOTHING humorous about what he's saying Bones. Get out. You know how hard this is for all of us and you're just getting some joke out of it. I would have never expected this from you."

"I did not intend on making a mockery of this meeting, I just…"

"Go, Bones. Just go."

The disappointment in his tone was heartbreaking. Brennan's taut mouth parted only slightly as she drew her eyes away from Booth's and gathered her things. She pulled her coat closed and hurried out the door into the cold air.

She walked quickly as she thought about her actions. She realized that her outburst had been inappropriate, but she couldn't quite fathom why Booth acted the way he had. She walked four blocks before she realized two things. For one, she needed to talk to Angela. _Surely she will be able to explain this unique circumstance so I'll understand it._

Secondly, she realized she'd forgotten her gloves. Only this time, she didn't have someone beside her to keep her hands warm.


	23. The Accident

Her pace became increasingly hasty; her hands were frozen despite being buried in her pockets. She rounded another corner and waited for the crossing light to flash and allow her access to the intersection. She quickly crossed and turned, burying her neck into her coat and scarf to attempt to protect her face from the chilling wind. It was then that she heard him.

"BONES!"

Her head snapped around as she stopped on the sidewalk. A small boy barreled towards her covered head to foot in orange and black. _Parker. _Trailing behind him was Rebecca, calmly but sternly telling him to slow down.

She kneeled to his level as he leaped into her arms. She hugged him and felt his small frame. It had been a while since she'd seen him, but it was surprising to her how thin he'd become. Parker pulled back from the embrace. He was panting dramatically. "Look what I'm wearing, Bones! My dad said he saw it in a store when you were on a case together and gave it to me for my birthday. I'm so glad we got to see you!" He leaned back in for another hug.

She remembered the case. The discovery of a dismantled body in southern Pennsylvania demanded the attention of the Jeffersonian team. Booth nearly killed them both on the way out of town when he slammed on his brakes at the sight of a Flyers gear store. He'd forgotten up until that point to get a gift for Parker. He'd also insisted that in order to be authentic, it had to be purchased in Pennsylvania, not online.

"Well it looks great. Hello." She looked up at Rebecca, who was smiling – seemingly unwillingly.

"Hello, Dr. Brennan. Alright Parker, we need to go now, let Dr. Brennan go." She patted Parker on the back. "He's got _another_ appointment with the oncologist." The disdain she used with the word caused Brennan to tilt her head, encouraging an explanation.

"He's not been able to keep anything down, and it's been at least a week since his last treatment. Probably routine stuff."

Brennan nodded, not wanting to offend Rebecca with any input that might make her feel as if her knowledge was insufficient. Suddenly, she felt warmth against her torso and realized her jeans were dampened. She loosened her hold on Parker, but found that as she did, his legs gave way and his head tilted back towards his mother. His pants were soaked through. She caught him under his arms and attempted to stand him up. He remained limp. Rebecca called his name several times and shook his shoulders. When he did not respond, Rebecca began to sob.

Brennan stood up with Parker in her arms and motioned to Rebecca with her head. "My apartment is a block away. Let's get him there. Call emergency services." Rebecca simply nodded and followed. Brennan admitted that this had to be terrifying for Rebecca. It made her hard-pressed to find a reason in that moment for ever wanting children.

* * *

><p>Emergency services arrived at her apartments within minutes. Soon they had Parker on a stretcher with an oxygen mask and IV fluids. Rebecca climbed into the ambulance and they were off. Brennan suddenly felt ridiculous as she remembered that her car was still at the diner.<p>

_Stomping away, while dramatic, was not the most practical way to get away from Booth. _

She hailed a cab and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She hesitated to fulfill Rebecca's request. As simple as it may have seemed to a mother whose child was being rushed to the hospital, it was not a simple call to make. She'd agreed to call Booth and tell him.

She dialed the number and waited. After two rings it went to voicemail. _Screened. _She knew exactly what he'd done. They were both experts at avoiding things. Calls, assignments, discussions about elusive pasts. Only this time, no matter how much Brennan wanted to avoid the impending conversation, she knew it was necessary.

* * *

><p>Booth laughed. It felt good after the intense hour they'd had. He motioned to the waitress for another round of coffees and exchanged a relieved look with Hank.<p>

_I never thought I'd be enjoying my father's company again. _

The thought rang through his head. This was foreign to him. The man sitting in front of him was different than the one he'd watched walk through that door all those years ago. Booth silently thanked God for this opportunity to reconnect with his father. The clarity brought by the day's conversation felt freeing.

The feeling was fleeting. He heard the familiar ring of his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. He saw the caller ID and made sure to hit the end button. _Bones,_ he thought. _She's not going to ruin this with her family-drama baggage. _He set the phone on the table.

"You know, you can answer it if you need to. We both understand if you have important FBI business to attend to." Ed gestured towards the phone and smiled.

Booth could sense a sort of pride from his father as he said 'FBI.' Booth pursed his lips and shook his head. "Nope, nothing important. At least, not important enough to interrupt." The phone rang once more, and he repeated his action.

"Shrimp, is this what you do when I call you and you don't pick up? Seems kind of rude, doesn't it?" Hank raised his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it, Pops. If I thought it might be life or death, I would answer it."

Ed smiled. "I guess in your line of work it's usually death."

The trio laughed. Booth's phone beeped again as a text message came in. He held a hand up to Hank, anticipating the older man's next comment. "I'll get this, okay? It's just a text…"

He looked down at the screen and froze.

_Parker is in the hospital. Rebecca is here. Details when you arrive. Meet in main lobby._

Each short sentence stabbed at him with the force of a jackhammer. He stood up, threw his coat on and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. He offered a quick apology, citing only 'Parker.' With that, he was out the door and into his SUV in no time flat. Within seconds, he was en route to the hospital, siren blaring.

* * *

><p>She was sitting for what seemed like only a moment when she heard the doors <em>swish <em>open in the waiting room. Standing in the doorway, exasperated, stood Booth. His eyes searched frantically for someone he recognized. Their eyes met and he strode speedily toward her, demanding to know what happened.

"He saw me on the street and ran to hug me." She paused, knowing that this was not the part he was interested to hear. She carefully chose her words to explain the rest. "Rebecca mentioned that he hadn't been maintaining proper nutrition and was fatigued. He fainted when we were standing in the street. We were near my apartment, so we took him there until emergency services could bring him here. They think he is simply incredibly dehydrated, so they have run some blood tests and started IV fluids until they know for sure."

He nodded carefully, hoping the tears in his eyes would refrain from falling. "If you want to see him, I can show you the way?" she reached out and touched his arm, retreating as he moved forward with another nod.

He followed her to the room and entered. Rebecca stood beside the bed, mimicking a motion of smoothing back Parker's hair. It seemed the purpose of the exercise was to comfort rather to accomplish something, Brennan decided, as Parker had no hair to be found.

Booth pressed his lips together as he approached the bedside. Parker was sleeping as the IV drips worked their magic. Booth grasped Parkers hand and gave it a firm squeeze before suggesting to Rebecca that they talk in the hall.

The two of them entered the hallway and Brennan immediately felt out of place. "Would you mind if I sat with him for a bit?" Rebecca nodded. Brennan entered the room and not two seconds after leaving, she heard Booth's familiar tone of disapproval, this time being used on someone else.

She walked around the end of the bed to Parker's right side and sat down in a large armchair. She propped her arm on the armrest and held her chin in her hand. She looked at the frail boy and marveled at the wonder of the human body. Although fainting seemed weak and fragile, it was the body's way of maintaining its essential processes by shutting the body down and utilizing less energy.

This did not liven her spirits. A once-healthy boy lay in a bed connected to monitors, medicines, and tubes. Almost seven years before, she'd learned about him for the first time. They'd gotten to know each other well since then through his father.

_His father. _

The thought was interrupted by a small throat clearing and a squeaky, "Hello?"

She stood beside the bed and smiled. "How are you feeling, Parker?"

Parker smacked lips a few times, attempting to saturate his mouth, dried by the oxygen he was receiving. "I guess I could be better."

She laughed a little, thinking to herself that he was just like his father, unwilling to admit any pain or difficulty he was facing.

"Well you seem to be doing fine." She pointed to each of the vital signs on the monitor that the various wires were connected to. She explained their meaning as Parker looked on, fully invested in the knowledge he was gaining. Brennan hoped that her own personal method of distraction would work for him as she heard his parents gaining momentum as they argued.

Parker shared his own insight into his condition. "Do they know what my white count is? Because that tells how many ninja white blood cells are fighting the bad stuff and the cancer to make me feel better."

Brennan refrained from correcting his interesting metaphor when the doctor entered the room with Booth and Rebecca following close behind.

"I see you're awake and alert now, Parker." Parker nodded. "I'm Doctor Spalding. I've spoken to your oncologist and I was sent your treatment information." He spoke directly to Parker, while intending the words mostly for his parents. "It looks like you're just extremely dehydrated. We'd like to keep you here overnight and monitor your urine and make sure you're feeling in tip-top shape when you leave."

Rebecca shared a chuckle and a smile with Brennan as the doctor spoke.

The doctor left, leaving the three adults at his bedside.

Booth spoke up. "What happened, bub?"

"The last thing I remember we were on the street. We were going to the doctor's and I had to go to the bathroom real bad 'cause they were gonna test my pee then too."

Rebecca laughed again, not surprised by how candid he was with the crowd around his bed.

"What, Mom? What are you laughing at?"

Rebecca leaned in to his ear. Parker slunk down in the bed and turned pink as his mother whispered to him. She stood up straight as his eyes fixed onto hers. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Parker. Remember when the doctor talked to you about that when you came to the hospital last month?" Parker nodded, albeit dissatisfied with the answer.

"I'm really, really sorry Bones." Parker refused to look her in the eye.

Booth watched the interaction and felt lost. "What are you talking about?" His eyes searched his son, then Rebecca, then Brennan. Brennan simply shook her head to indicate it was nothing to worry about.

Booth asked again. "Parks, why are you apologizing?"

Parker looked downright ashamed. Booth asked once more and was met with a machine-gun-like answer. "I PEED ON BONES. I got dehydrated and I fainted and my muscles were jello-y and relaxed and I couldn't hold it anymore." Parker's face was now a deep crimson.

Brennan touched Parker's shoulder. "It's fine, Parker. I'm not mad or upset with you."

Parker refused to look up. Brennan patted his shoulder and walked to the door. As she passed, Booth caught a glimpse of her jeans. Her entire left leg was darker and wet. He reached out and grabbed her arm. He mouthed, _I'm sorry. _

She continued walking. As he turned back to the bed, Rebecca shot him an irritated glance. "At least take her home to change, Seeley. She got a cab here." Booth opened his mouth to protest, but Rebecca added, "I'll stay with him tonight. We'll call you in the morning."

Booth said his goodbyes and ran out of the room. He knew that he had some serious apologizing to do.

_I am so screwed._


	24. The Obligation

Booth crossed the threshold of the glass doors to see her standing there. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her abdomen and she had her hands tucked under her arms. She was shaking, no doubt from the cold wind beating on the moist leg of her jeans and whipping through her dark hair. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her.

He placed a hand on the small of her back. She jumped away. "Bones…" he began.

She shook her head at him, wordless. He remembered something and reached into his pocket. "I think you forgot these again," he offered her the gloves she'd left at the diner hours before. She snatched them out of his hands and shoved them on and turned away once more.

"Let me take you home to change, Bones, you're soaked." She remained still, refusing to acknowledge his offer. "C'mon. Why would you pay for a ride with a stranger in a dirty car when you have a handsome man practically begging you right here?" He smiled as she turned to look at him. He felt repulsive, using charm to try and repair what damage he had caused - but he felt this was as good a time as any for a Hail Mary.

"I'm getting a cab – as soon as one comes along." She turned away for a second, but realized she had something else to get across to him and snapped her head around once more. "You must think a lot of yourself."

Booth tilted his head, making it clear that he wasn't sure of her point. She continued, "You seem to think you can do anything as long as you feel like it serves you well." She shook her head and looked at the ground. "I have exerted a maximum effort in helping you with Parker's illness and your father being around. I have endured your snippy remarks and I have allowed you to be angry with me even when I am unsure of why – without demanding to know your reasons."

"It's been a lot to deal with, Bones, I don't mean to snap at you or…"

Her eyes tracked up to glare at him. "Then why, Booth? Why are you so harsh when I make a mistake? Surely at this point in our partnership you know that I do not purposefully do anything that would cause you pain or discomfort. I always look out for you. Always."

Her eyes glistened, demonstrating just how hard she was working at maintaining her composure. She was absolutely right. Booth could not fathom why this woman – who was abandoned by the majority of the people she came to love and trust – continued to allow him into her life even as he repeatedly hurt her.

His question came out soft. It was not the type of thing he would usually ask, and not the way he would usually ask. "Then why do you keep coming back?"

She hung her head again. While the question came strange to Booth, Brennan had prepared the answer long ago when she was in Maluku.

_There was not one particular point on her trip in which Brennan decided that she made a huge mistake. It was a gradual process; little memories popped out at her at the most inopportune moments. Once as she furiously ate her prepackaged meal at the dig site, she thought about Wong Fu's and late nights at the lab. She thought of holidays – and the fact that she'd missed her own personal traditions and spent them all with her partner. _

_She thought of the couch in her office and how comfortable it seemed compared to the cot draped with mosquito netting she now slumbered in – and how she often found her partner sound asleep there. Even something as innocuous as a pen reminded her of the _click click click _of a pen hovering above her head at crime scenes while Booth waited anxiously for more details about the victim. _

_With each day spent toiling over human remains, Brennan grew increasingly tired. The weariness she felt was not from the digging, crouching, staring at specimens, the heat of the Malukan sun, or from lying awake at night. It was a feeling she was familiar with from her childhood. It was a yearning for someone. _

_She likened it to a withdrawal from an addiction – every day she'd spent with Booth on cases conditioned her to rely on his presence. As independent as she wanted to be, there was at least a small part of her that she knew depended on him. Every day in Maluku made this necessity more blatant._

_The growing awareness of his absence came to a head one day as she was cataloging bones with her fellow scientists. The makeshift lab was quiet, save for the click of microscopes and bones being set in place. The air was stale – figuratively speaking. Brennan had been working beside the others for nearly 12 hours without a single break. It seemed the need for knowledge and discovery overpowered basic needs; bathroom breaks, meals, and rest times were few and far between._

_On this day, however, Brennan noticed she was hungry and could deny it no longer. She smiled sadly as she paraded out of the tent – she knew that if she dared skip eating for 12 hours in D.C., her partner would have scolded her for not taking care of herself. It was these little things she missed. The unexpected visits, the overprotective tendencies, the late-night conversations. _

_She was greatly relieved when Caroline called and summoned the team; this meant that she could finally see Booth and explain her epiphany. Despite the ups and downs of their partnership and the unique obstacles they faced in the field, they always came back. Back to Booth and Brennan. It was the only thing in her life she could rely on to be a constant._

Brennan brought her eyes up from the ground and wiped them with the back of her index finger. Booth looked on as her lip quivered – she was preparing to say something, but seemed unsure.

"Angela has Hodgins and Michael," she finally said. "You have Hank and Parker. Russ has Amy and the girls. My father has…" she stopped and sniffed. "Well, my father is a felon and a murderer and my mother is dead."

"Bluntly put, Bones. What does any of that have to do with your decision to always come back?"

She straightened her back and shook her hair so that it landed behind her shoulders. With another sniffle, she admitted matter-of-factly, "Everyone has someone they can count on to always l-" she cleared her throat. "To care for them."

Booth smiled at the near-slip in her speech. She continued, "I know that if I need something, I can ask you. You can be incredibly infuriating because you get highly defensive when it comes to your personal life – but you carry that same passion into our partnership. You said you would do anything for me, kill for me, and you have. My father has too - but you are the only person I know that I can trust to commit such an act for all of the morally acceptable reasons. Besides, you have an obligation. We're partners."

She stood there stiffly, still shaking slightly with the chill in the air and the wind blowing around them. Booth stepped slightly toward her. "We're not _just_ partners, Bones. I'm sure you know that. What you don't seem to know is that I don't act all protective and defensive out of obligation. I _want _to.

"And I'll be honest with ya, I've been horrible since you told me about Parker. You even gave me a second chance and I made you feel bad for a mistake." He laughed, almost as a sign of disappointment in himself, "Hell, it wasn't even a mistake. I thought about it. It is kind of funny. You and my dad having some things in common. Who would ever guess that?"

"Well we are both humans and we share the same number of chromosomes and basic underlying gene structure, so it was statistically improbable that we would have absolutely nothing in common," Brennan reasoned.

Booth smiled. "You know what I meant, Bones. It's just… you're not like him. At least not his personality."

Brennan shrugged, willing to admit that this was at least true. She shook slightly with the movement. Of her shoulders.

"Bones! Gah, I'm sorry, you're freezing. Are you going to let me take you home or what? C'mon… it's a no-brainer."

She pulled her hands out from under her arms and linked her left arm with his right. He glanced at the gesture, shocked but pleased. He then looked forward towards the parking lot and began walking, attempting to dim his shining grin.

"I never understood that phrase. A decision of any magnitude requires cognitive function, otherwise it is happenstance as opposed to being premeditated. Cognitive function requires a brain. Obviously."

"Obviously," Booth parroted.

"Hey! Are you making fun of me?" She used her right hand to hook around and punch him in the chest.

He held both hands up in a mockingly defensive pose. "Whoa, now. Totally joking." The pair stopped walking and locked eyes. Booth saw the raw red lids Brennan sported. He wondered about this. In all their years, he'd seen her cry very few times – and never really about their relationship as partners. _Or whatever we are, _he thought.

Brennan felt a metaphorical warmth as she looked at him. She felt safe. She admittedly had always felt unsettled when it came to her safety – despite her extensive martial arts training, possession of a gun, and living in a somewhat safe neighborhood. She nearly always felt confident that she could protect herself, but even that became invalid in the several times she found herself kidnapped.

With Booth, there was a sense that he could protect her – emotionally and physically. They complemented each other. She reasoned that this was why in all the years of danger, they survived. The combined knowledge provided the paramount survival opportunity.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Booth repeated his question.

" 'Ey, Bones. Are you going to get in or what? His voice was soft – reasonably so, as their faces were ever-so-close.

* * *

><p>When they reached her apartment, Booth sat patiently as Brennan changed clothes. Her top was soaked in addition to her jeans, but she dared not tell Booth in an effort to keep his unwarranted guilt to a minimum.<p>

"So were you still with your father when I texted you?" she bellowed from behind her bedroom door.

Booth wondered if she would even care to know anymore. "It went well, I think. He was very apologetic. He wants to try and repair the damage he's done." He shook his head. "I'm not really sure if that's entirely possible."

Brennan pulled on a new pair of jeans and pondered this. "If he's anything like you, Booth, then there is a strong possibility that he is capable of great change. You did stop gambling after I met you."

This was the first time she'd thought about it that way. Even in telling Sweets the story of their first case – and kiss - she neglected to see that the end of his gambling coincided with meeting her. For once, she allowed her rational brain to jump first to the conclusion that she had something to do with it. She smiled as she buttoned a new shirt.

Booth hoped that it was true. "Frankly, up until today, I had no idea he and I had anything in common. I mean, I knew he liked the same cereal as me because that's what I ate growing up. And I knew he liked the same teams and he had the same last name. But he's a lot like me, Bones. Not all good stuff – but some of it."

Brennan came through the doorway of her room, bearing a look of pride. It made her happy that he could experience the same kind of renewed spirit she had upon reuniting with her father.

"You did that, you know." Booth looked at her, beaming. "I wouldn't have given him a chance. Looks like my little girl is all grown up!" Booth wiped a fake tear from his eye and pretended to sniff with pride for his partner.

"I am neither little nor yours, Booth. Although I understand the sentiments and your manner of jest."

"Ouch, Bones! Not mine?" He got up from the couch and followed her out the front door.

He laughed and added just loud enough for her to hear, "I beg to differ."


	25. The Swell

"Bones, come on. Just the fact that there are thousands of restaurants in DC doesn't mean we have to try them all in one week!"

Brennan scoffed at the statement. "The stomachs of blue whales are the largest in the world and can contain nearly 200 gallons of nourishment." She laughed, clearly entertaining herself with the ridiculous thought, "Even if we were blue whales and we ate nonstop for a week we could not eat at every restaurant in all of DC."

She continued laughing, throwing her head back in her chair as Booth looked on. He stood propped against the doorway of her office. He loved when this happened. Very rarely, she would take what he said and applied science that in her head seemed absolutely absurd. She looked so beautiful and confident.

Booth's grumbling stomach interrupted his daydream.

"Bones, you know what I mean, let's just do the diner or something. Besides, Parker is coming with us and I'm not sure he'd like Ethiopian food. Especially that kimo thing you were talking about. Sounds too much like chemo to me."

"Kitmo, Booth. And the diner is fine. They just added new salads to their menu and I am eager to try them." She stood and gathered her purse and pulled her long coat on.

"Then why have we been going to all of these exotic places all week? I mean, that Indian food really gave me a run for my money." He caught her confused glance at the use of the idiom and clarified, "I spent a lot of time in the bathroom that night."

She laughed again as she passed him in the doorway, her shoulder grazing his chest. The touch sent shivers down Booth's spine. It had been weeks since they'd made up – with nearly every spare second and meal spent together. Booth tried to tell himself to just calm down, _We're partners, _he'd chant in his head. It didn't help.

He'd felt it since he met her; there was a spark between them that could not be denied. He got used to the feeling of her impressing him – there were so many things she knew and could do that left him in awe, yet every time they touched, he felt almost privileged. The gaining sexual tension in the air could be cut with a knife. _Or a chainsaw, _he thought.

They fell back into a routine, only now they were both hyper-aware of it. The laughing. His hand on the small of her back. Opening her door. Every meal. Calling to check in. It happened like this every day. Brennan found herself enamored with the idea of a routine. Their business allowed very little regularity, seeing as their jobs hinged on the unpredictability of deranged serial killers, scorned lovers, and confused sociopaths.

But this was comfortable. This was predictable. He was reliable, and everything about him backed it up.

* * *

><p>"Dad! Tell Bones what I ate last week!"<p>

Booth shook his head. "Why don't you finish chewing what's in your mouth and tell her yourself?"

Parker finished and exclaimed, "A WORM!"

Brennan nodded her head, not surprised by Parker's declaration. She'd heard many stories about Parker eating foreign objects, from glue to gum wrappers to stray food under restaurant tables. _Probably the one where we're sitting as well, _she thought.

"Tell him about how gross it is to be eating worms, Bones. How sick he'll get if he eats them." Booth his widened his eyes, pleading for her to play along. The last thing he wanted was Parker to get some sort of strange illness on top of his immunity-killing leukemia. Naturally, Bones did not catch this subtlety.

"Earthworms can be very nutritionally beneficial. They are high in protein and are generally safe to eat if prepared correctly." She took another bite, plainly not phased.

Booth tipped his head and held his palm out in front of him. "Really, Bones? You couldn't just let me win that one?"

Brennan slowly raised her eyes to meet his. "You know I don't lie to children, Booth. Besides, I believe that eating annelids is one of the prescribed solutions for hunger in desperate situations by the Army field manual. Surely you should know that, having been deployed several times." She kept her eyes on him as she took another bite; she wanted to see his reaction to her direct defiance.

Booth witnessed one corner of Brennan's mouth turn up mischievously. "I did know that. But I also know that he didn't take the proper precautions to ensure that the worm would not harm him." He paused, fork in hand.

"You soak them in water long enough…"

"…long enough to rid the body of dirt if possible. I know," Booth finished for her. He directed his attention back to the food on his plate. Brennan beamed at him, holding her gaze until the silence was broken by Parker.

"Dad," he giggled, "I think Bones wants to say something to you. She's staring." Brennan snapped her eyes away from Booth and took a sudden interest to the salad before her. Her cheeks burned and she was sure they were tinged similarly to the tomatoes on her plate.

"Oh, is that so, Bones? Have something to say because I finally know something you know?" He flashed a trademark smile, lopsided and cocky.

"No," she stated matter-of-factly, "I was simply impressed by your knowledge. So arrest me."

An image flashed through Booth's head. Certainly not an image he'd like his young son to partake in. Now, both blushing, Booth asked, "Arrest you? Wh- why would I do that, Bones?"

"Well the way you make it sound, it is a crime to show interest in what you know. Isn't that how the joke goes?"

"Not the way I've heard it." He grinned, looking at her again, waiting for her icy blues to return the favor. She glanced up, catching his eyes. Booth suddenly felt the urge to grab her hand – little did he know she would have welcomed the touch.

"You know, guys, if you wanted to be alone, you probably shouldn't have brought Parker with you." Sweets sat down in the empty seat next to Brennan at the table. His grin stretched wide, he appeared more like a circus sideshow than a FBI psychologist.

Booth pulled his elbows off the table quickly and kept them folded to his chest as he leaned back in his seat. "Well if I wanted time alone with Bones…" he paused just long enough to leave doubt in everyone's minds, "… I wouldn't have invited you either, Sweets."

"No need to get defensive, Agent Booth. I was stopping by to pick up lunch and saw Parker was here – I need gift ideas for his birthday." Sweets held a hand out to Parker, which was met with an animated high five.

Booth was less than enthused at this. Self-admittedly, Booth was terrible when it came to purchasing gifts – when it came to procrastinating at least. Most of Parker's Christmas presents went over royally and were Parker's favorites, much to Rebecca's dismay. However, they were typically purchased the day before or day of. The thought of asking Parker what he would like for his birthday seemed odd – firstly because Booth always got something Parker liked, no doubt about it. Secondly, because Booth could not remember a time when his own father asked him what he'd like. Thirdly, Sweets had _never _given Parker a birthday gift.

"Oh, I definitely want a stethoscope. I'm gonna listen to heartbeats and open safes like in the movies." Booth's death glare on Sweets shifted to confusion as he looked to his son. The safe-cracking was no surprise. Booth found out only a week prior that Parker guessed the passcode to the parental controls for TV. 22705. _Not my most creative, _he thought.

"Does that mean you're coming to my party, Doctor Sweets?"

Sweets opened his mouth slightly to answer, only to be interrupted. "Party? What party, Parker?" As if Booth's 'Dad-Esteem' wasn't low enough, the prospect of his son's birthday party he hadn't even been invited to didn't help much.

"The one Uncle Ed said we were going to have. Come on, Dad!" For reasons unbeknownst to Booth, Parker had taken to calling Edwin Booth 'Uncle.' Brennan suggested that the confusion of having a great-grandfather he'd referred to as his grandfather and then mysteriously having the real one show up caused the moniker. _Seems logical enough._

"Why am I just hearing about this?" Booth was beginning to get defensive.

"Booth, we were invited by e-mail. It may just be in your spam folder. Your father and I are taking care of everything. We'll set it up in my apartment since there is more sufficient space than your place. Rebecca is even coming with Brent when she brings Parker."

While privately, Booth would divulge that he loved the idea of Brennan essentially playing Mommy to his son, it was still a little unsettling to him that he was the last to know about the party. This, however, was not the time and place to be discussing it. _After all, there are two children present._

* * *

><p>Booth took Parker, after receiving a phone call from a somewhat-irritated Rebecca about time and responsibility, leaving Brennan and Sweets at the Diner finishing their meals. The chat had been innocuous thus far, revolving mostly around their differences in opinion related to psychological theories.<p>

Sweets held a question in his back pocket, though. He knew that he was more likely to get a straight answer from Brennan when Booth was not there, but did not want to push, knowing that any undue pressure on Brennan would only cause her to retreat further into introversion.

His restlessness won out.

"Dr. Brennan, what do you think about Agent Booth's father?"

Brennan hadn't really stopped to consider what her feelings were about Booth's father. In stories, he was portrayed to be a heartless monster, but from all accounts in person, he was a kind and gentle man. His remorseful demeanor was reminiscent of someone else she knew. Booth.

"I think he has taken great strides in becoming someone that Booth can trust again. Like my father and I." She had very little reservations at this point talking to Sweets about Booth's father because she knew Sweets had discussed it with Booth himself.

"I find Booth's father to be a rather difficult enigma. I find that I only run into this sort of problem when profiling suspects when I am being lied to. Or when I was writing my book on your relationship with Booth." Sweets immediately sensed that he'd worded this thought incorrectly. His presumption was soon affirmed.

"You think Booth and I are lying to you? There is no logical sense in feeding you fallacies, Dr. Sweets. I assure you, if I didn't want to answer a question truthfully, I would simply ignore you."

Sweets backpedaled. "It is not so much lying, Dr. Brennan. Like in the case of my book, I think that key details are being left out, for whatever reason – be it negative or positive. It is like your first case, for instance." He smiled as he mentioned it, only to be met by an enthused eye roll and scowl from Brennan.

"The details of your first case with Booth that you insisted were miniscule and forgettable were in fact the most glaring and apparent details to me. Often it is a difference in perception that determines why two people cannot agree." He sat back, feeling satisfied with himself.

"While I concur our perceptions are very different, I disagree that there is something being left out. Booth has done all he can to make this transition easy on himself and his family, and trusts that you will do the same in counseling him."

Sweets' eyes narrowed. "I find it interesting that you use the word transition. Why do you phrase it that way?"

Brennan, annoyed but determined to make her point known, answered, "Because this is a time of flux for Booth. For the majority of his life, his father was Hank. Parker's grandfather was Hank. Now he is trying to fit the person that has been absent – yet always lingering in his mind – back into daily life. Anthropologically speaking, it is a sort of prodigal son story, only with a father."

Sweets let her words sink in. "I think you're right, Dr. Brennan. "

Brennan looked shocked. There were very few conversations between the two of them that concluded with the other admitting the other to be correct.

"I think Booth is making the most of his father being around again, and it shows great strides on his part to assimilate him into his life without any major complications. It's awesome really. Besides, seeing the two of you together lately makes me think that there is so much more going on in your minds. Like today, the two of you looking at each other at the table. I mean, in the years I've known you I've seen some pretty heavy eye contact, but Agent Booth has never been so brazen about it in public before. Even after..." he cut himself off, worried he'd ventured too far in his exhilaration.

Brennan hardly noticed. She felt her metaphorical heart swell. Despite the fact that she gave little weight to Sweets' non-scientific opinion of things, it was nonetheless encouraging to know that he was supportive and believed Booth was going to be happy. She couldn't help but feel like something great was happening between them, and for once, she could not foresee an impending storm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I will just say this - I am sorry about the long long hiatus in between chapters. I have no excuse (as per uzhe) and am embarrassed it took me this long. Another thing, because of the unique turn that this story took from the way I originally planned it (also giving the story at least 17 more chapters than I originally intended at this point) you can expect that there will only be 3 or 4 more chapters. I am working on another idea right now that involves HEAVY READER INPUT (!) and am trying to get ahead on the chapters so that I do not suck as much as I did with PitP. <strong>

**Thank you all again for your readership despite my obvious flaws. You are all wonderful, I'd love to hear from you here or on tumblr! (Check my profile for the info!)**

**love. -zee**


	26. The Pie

There was nothing to be logically argued with the decision in front of her, yet she felt like the success of the evening hinged on that very moment.

_One wrong move, _she thought, _and all of Booth's hard work is ruined._

Although she knew objectively that both choices would work, neither would have major repercussions, and both were quite lovely, she remained stagnant in the decision process.

There were blue plates and red plates.

Brennan had been standing in the tableware aisle of the party supply store for over an hour. The decision haunted her. _What would Parker like the best? Why can't I remember his favorite color? _

Several store employees offered their aid in the matter, finding only a woman with a large vocabulary and a small capacity for spontaneity.

Brennan resolved herself to making sure that Parker's party was not a worry to Booth, and that every detail down to the toothpicks were a surprise to Parker – aside from the event itself of course. She and Ed laid out the menu, mostly homemade fare, and made sure to have a variety of foods for the variety of diets on hand – vegan, picky, breastfeeding, and chemo. Up until that day, plans were easily made and changed.

Today, however, was the day of the party. There was no time for an hour-long-stare at paper products.

Feeling foolish, Brennan swept a sufficient set of each color into the basket on her arm. _I could have just chosen later_, she mentally chided herself.

* * *

><p>Booth stared at the clock on the orange wall of his office. The paperwork from the week before had been overwhelming him – enough so that he'd fallen behind, relegating him to his desk on a Saturday. His ancient computer whirred with the same dull, taunting tone as it always did, encouraging no more work to be done.<p>

Unlike other Saturdays, the clock moved quickly. As each minute passed, Booth felt a harsher impending deadline weighing down on him. _Parker's gift._

He'd _thought _about it for weeks, which said little about the amount of effort he'd put into acquiring one. Booth had given himself until 3pm to finish as much paperwork as possible before needing to get ready for the party that night at 7. It was already half past two, and the thought of working was not even a flit in his mind.

Pulling on his jacket, he flipped the lights in his office figuring that the work could be done at a later time.

* * *

><p>Brennan heard a knock on the door and immediately felt her heart race as she looked around. Ingredients were scattered all over the kitchen, pans awaited their turn in the oven, and gift wrap lay messily on the floor.<p>

_It couldn't be, it was just… _she got a glance at the clock, _4:00. Be calm. _Her demeanor shifted instantly as she assured herself that she was right on schedule.

Brennan opened the door to find Ed on the other side. She greeted him and gestured that he set the gift he held in the living room.

"It smells wonderful, Temperance. No wonder Seeley keeps you around." Ed sat in one of the dining room chairs.

"I believe he keeps me around because I am contracted by the FBI." Although she caught the man's meaning, she couldn't help but think that her private friendship with Booth was something that was just between them – luckily her naiveté could cover it.

Ed laughed and sniffed the air once more. "What are you making then?" He moved into the kitchen, accepting a glass of water and a taste of her mini lasagna cups.

The two carried on a conversation about the tofu pigs in blankets she'd made, about how similar Booth and Ed's tastes in food were, and how incredibly intelligent Parker was becoming. It was only when they began hanging streamers that Brennan finally realized the only thing she'd forgotten.

"PIE!" She hung her head in her hands, disappointed in the loss of her perfect plan. Of the soiree's preparations, this was the one she'd struggled with most. In her original blueprint for the evening, she'd envisioned homemade lattice crust pies. However, with careful thought and a typical onslaught of logic, Brennan realized she would neither be able to cook as many things in one kitchen's oven as she'd hoped, nor would she be able to stand the smell of cooked fruit in her home for the weeks to follow.

Besides, the diner had what Booth once called 'the best pie in all the land.' The title seemed like a stretch, but she admitted that the idea of picking up the pies would be much simpler than trying to find someone else to cook them.

There were many things they'd discussed and that Brennan had noticed about Ed that reminded her of Booth. Although Booth maintained over the years that he was nothing like his father, Brennan found it hard to deny the traits Booth developed not just in spite of, but because of his father. This was one of those things.

In a moment of pure Booth, Ed simply grabbed his keys and asked "How many?" Brennan looked up and cocked her head.

"How many what?"

"Pies. And what kind do you want?"

Brennan smiled.

* * *

><p>Booth's quest for the perfect gift ended after calling Special Agent Lerner – Lerner had once left on vacation and had forgotten to turn in paperwork for a case. In a frantic call from Key West, Booth agreed to turn the papers in for him as Lerner promised he'd 'make it up to you somehow.'<p>

It was because of this favor that Booth now possessed season passes to a private stadium box for the Washington Nationals. Thanks to Agent Lerner's status as the owner's great-nephew, Booth had the perfect gift – and surely something that would make his son's Little League team more than happy.

The only issue Booth faced now was the traffic in DC. After picking up the passes on the other side of town, Booth was stuck just about as far away as one could be while still in the District. His scanner picked up a call about a tractor-trailer involved in a pileup on the beltway. The officer cited that it might take nearly an hour to get the wreckage cleared. _That puts me at 6:45 getting to my apartment. Damnit._

Booth's mind wandered to what he'd be wearing. Before the obstacle of the tractor-trailer, he'd planned on going home to shower and change before the party. Parker wasn't scheduled to show up until 7, but he'd wanted to offer help in setting up if possible. He decided that if the traffic sat stagnant much longer, he'd cheat a little and throw on the siren. Just not yet. The last time he'd put on the siren in a non-emergent situation, Brennan scolded him.

"_You can't just decide that your agenda is more important than the rest of these people's, Booth. They all have destinations that they have deemed of great importance, also."_

"_Bones, this is important, I want to get to Parker's recital. He's got a few lines and Becca will be pissed if I show up late or not at all like what usually happens. So chill. After all, if I'm late, it's because I have to take _you _home."_

"_Which was unnecessary since you did not need to pick me up for breakfast today, I was fine going in to work on my own."_

"_So you're saying you didn't enjoy breakfast?" He grinned in her direction, earning a reluctant smile in return._

"_I enjoyed it, Booth, but you can't get upset that you're going to be late to your son's performance because you decided to pick me up for breakfast frivolously. Besides, if you're worried about being late, I will just come with you. How much are tickets? You may have to pay for me, as I have not been to the ATM today."_

"_Bones. It's an elementary school play about hobbies. These kids aren't classically trained or anything. It's just going to be a bunch of gap-toothed hooligans doing things that their parents videotape to blackmail them later in life."_

"_Regardless of their amateur thespian status…" _

"_Whoa, there Bones, just because they're in the theatre program doesn't make them…" he dropped his voice to a whisper, "…gay."_

"_Thespian, Booth, not lesbian!" she looked at him and found that he replaced his uncomfortable grimace with a smirk. "Oh I see, you were playing dumb for comedic effect. I get it." She punched his arm. "Seriously, Booth, if I am going with you now, you can turn off your siren. You don't want people to stop taking sirens seriously. You'd be the boy who cried wolf."_

"_Hey, there Bones!" he switched the siren off, turning to Brennan in disbelief. "You know about the boy who cried wolf? Isn't that a little too… I dunno, metaphoric for you?"_

"_I may not have been raised conventionally like…" she paused, amending her statement, "…most children, but I certainly have knowledge of basic children's allegory. Allegory by definition is metaphorical, Booth. Everyone has heard that story. Although, my parents told me upfront that lying would not result in a wolf attack."_

_Booth smiled and shook his head in disbelief at how adorable he found that grown woman in that very moment._

* * *

><p>Brennan bounced around the kitchen placing finishing touches on things before setting dishes away in the refrigerator and on warming trays until the time of the party. She'd finished decorating and done an extraneous re-cleaning of every surface in the house. Soon enough, she'd have over twenty people in her apartment, including seven under the age of 12.<p>

She ran through the mental checklist once more. _Decorations. Pie. Beer. Wine. Cake. Dinner. Plates. Music. Gifts. Booth. Booth? Isn't he supposed to be here by now? _

In disbelief she shook her head. _He is an adult. I would be offended if Booth worried like this about my time of arrival. Then again, I wouldn't be late. _ She did as she usually did and assumed that work was holding him and he was too much of a gentleman to call and bother her in the midst of her party preparations.

Some gentleman.

* * *

><p>Ed waited at the counter for the waitress. He remembered her name to be Stella, yet thought he'd seen her a few days before wearing a different nametag. He placed the inquiry in his mental bank and focused back at the task at hand. Stella approached him with a somewhat sorrowed face.<p>

"Darling, I'm afraid we only have one pie ready to go out right now. If you could wait about 30 minutes, we'll have at least two more ready for our dinner rush that you can take with you – and they'll be nice and hot," she offered with a smile.

Ed nodded. "Can I get you some coffee while you wait? We just got some fancy new creamers in – want to try the irish cream?"

Ed shook his head and chuckled, "Coffee would be great, but I've got to be driving home after this, don't want to be twisted up for the ride."

"Oh honey," she said, pouring a cup, "there's no alcohol in there! It's just a flavoring!" Ed pressed his lips together into a smile and shrugged his shoulders, welcoming a new treat.

* * *

><p>At 6:15, Booth had managed to throw together a gift bag for Parker and was showered and changed.<p>

_Good luck telling me I can't use my siren whenever need be, there, Bones. _

He'd pulled on a pair of darker jeans, a faded heather grey Steelers tee, and a short-collared brown leather jacket. He checked himself out in the mirror once more, admiring the slightly scruffy face in the reflection. It wasn't that he never found himself attractive, it was simply that lately, he was noticing it a lot more.

He grabbed his gun and threw it into his front pocket along with tucking his badge into the belt of his jeans. Locking the door, he jogged down to his SUV and quickly made his way toward Brennan's apartment.

* * *

><p>Brennan carried the last pitcher of punch to the table and stood back to look at her work. The apartment had an elegant yet whimsical feel, what she felt was perfect for a child of Parker's age and wit. She would also be kidding herself if she didn't admit that what Sweets said was true. <em>"Half of the reason why adults throw birthday parties for their kids is so that they themselves can interact with their adult friends." <em>Although she had no proof that 50% was an accurate value, it seemed like a genuine sentiment all-in-all.

Just as she was walking into her room to change, she heard a loud pounding on the door. The clock glowed 6:32. _Booth. _

"Come in, Booth, the door is unlocked." She closed the door to her bedroom and opened her closet to determine what to wear. _Why didn't I think of choosing an outfit before now? That would have been more time effective._

He entered the apartment and walked in slowly and quietly. "I'll be out in just a moment, Booth, I just have to change first. It was foolish to think I could make a decision about anything quickly on a day like today, but I still managed to somehow put off choosing the table settings and my own clothing until the last minute."

She waited for a response, but assumed he'd stopped in the bathroom to relieve himself. He had just come from work, and the Hoover's bathroom facilities were just about as updated as Booth's computer setup.

"Make yourself at home, Booth, there is beer in the fridge, but you should probably drink it before your father comes so that it isn't an unwelcome temptation. There's also some punch I made that is supposed to be better than alcoholic sangria on the table, although I'll admit, non-alcoholic sangria sounds like a waste."

She chattered on, seemingly to herself until she heard a bump at her bedroom door. "Okay, Booth, I'll be right out, let me just pick a shirt to wear –" the door slammed open. Brennan let out a feminine, high-pitched gasp and pulled a shirt from her closet out and held it tight to her still-unclothed chest.

"Booth! I just told you…"

A familiar voice met hers, raspy and slurred. "I don't know who you _think _you're taking to, Temperance, but I'm pretty sure you have the wrong Booth."

* * *

><p><strong>Have something to say? REVIEW! I'll admit, I have absolutely no motivation to ever release new chapters when I don't get any reviews... So take a moment and let me know how you feel - good, bad, or ugly!<strong>

-zee


	27. The Revelation

_A familiar voice met hers, raspy and slurred. "I don't know who you think you're taking to, Temperance, but I'm pretty sure you have the wrong Booth."_

Brennan gripped the shirt close to her body. A mix of hesitation and surprise initiated adrenaline to surge through her system. _What is he doing here? _

He stepped forward and reached his arm out, hoping to touch her arm. She retreated sideways, nearly stepping into the closet. "What are you doing here?"

"It's not like you don't know that, Temperance. I'm here for Parker's party!" He threw his hands up in a pseudo-celebratory manner. He rolled his eyes and continued, "Surely with all of the streamers and decorations you remembered that!"

Brennan shook her head with disdain. "I should have been more clear in my question. Why are you in my room?" She glanced down in reference to her appearance. "I am not decent at the present – you are welcome to have something to eat in the kitchen until the other guests –"

"I appreciate you're trying to be polite, but you and I both know that's not going to happen." He stumbled forward once more, this time leaving Brennan no choice but to back into the wall behind her. He smiled crookedly, an eerie shadow of that of her partner. He leaned in closer and she felt his hot breath on her face reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. He gave a deep, guttural laugh and repeated, "That's not going to happen."

* * *

><p>Booth rounded the corner alongside Brennan's apartment complex and pulled into the parking garage. He tapped the steering wheel along to Fleetwood Mac's <em>Gold Dust Woman. <em>Although he'd never admit it to anyone of distinguished musical taste, he had a soft spot for the British-American group and their entire _Rumours _album, keeping it in rotation in the car stereo whenever possible.

He parked and collected his things from the passenger seat and casually made his way to the stairwell of the parking facility. He whistled the tune of the song and smiled. _Today is turning out to be a pretty good day. _

He entered the building and greeted the doorman, who by only nodding acknowledged the familiar face and allowed him inside. Although his need for control in most situations combined with his somewhat unconscious wariness of elevators typically propelled him to use the stairs, he glanced at his watch and determined that he was in no hurry. After all, he still had 30 minutes until Parker's arrival with Rebecca.

* * *

><p>Brennan crossed her left arm over her chest to hold the shirt in its place covering her bosom. She extended her right hand flat against the man's chest and applied pressure to encourage him to step away.<p>

"You should go, Ed. Let me get dressed and ready for Parker's party. Your whole family will be here any moment." She hoped that the subtle hint would make its way into his drunken consciousness without revealing her discomfort with the situation.

"Trying to get rid of me so fast, are you?" He swatted her hand off of his chest, grabbing her wrist in the process. "There's no need to get angry, honey. It's just me, Eddie."

Brennan struggled for a moment to twist her arm from his grasp, but found that with enough effort, he gave in to the challenge. She slipped out of his grip and repeated his action, grabbing his wrist firmly in her hand.

"I assure you, Ed, there is no reason for you to be in my bedroom at this moment. I will be out in a minute and then we can talk about the obvious problem you are having right now."

Ed grinned once again, feeling that her words were more of a challenge than a warning. "Now what problem would that be, little missy?" Brennan felt his saliva hit her face in tiny droplets as he enunciated his last word. "I don't see a problem here, besides that you're cutting off my circulation."

He slammed his right hand into her left shoulder against the wall. Brennan released a slight _uumph _at the force, but as she relinquished her decency and allowed her left arm to come up and attempt to push him away, he brought a knee up into her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her.

"You know, missy – "

"My name is Temperance…" she breathed out. She squirmed against the pressure he'd placed on her shoulder and her abdomen, and attempted to slip from his hand once more, but he slammed her wrist above her head against the wall.

"That's what I hear. Everyone seems to have something good to say about you, Temperance. My father says you're wonderful. My grandson says you're the smartest person he's ever met. The waitress at the diner says you write such great novels. Your coworkers say you are _so _invested in your job. Hell, my son won't shut the fuck up about you. Says you're 'the one.'"

Brennan wiggled more from side to side, continuing through the strange admission about Booth. Her facial expressions changed for but a second as she struggled. He caught the subtlety and ran with it.

"Believe me, Temperance, I'm as surprised as you are. He's so stupid that he won't do anything about it. Something about you two 'being partners.' Or that the 'timing isn't right.' He says you've already rejected him before, but you're too 'compartmentalized' to bother with it." He laughed loudly and decreased his pressure on her for a moment, allowing her to intake a deep breath and thrash wildly in his grip.

Ed leaned in to Brennan's ear with his hot breath and whispered to her. "You ruined my boy, you know that? I got sober and thought it would all change. That Seel and I could be buddies. I realize now that alcohol shows you the truth of things. He'll never be worth anything. You're just like his mother was, telling the boys that they were _special. _Seeley's just a dumbfuck that's run into some lucky situations. You think your personal experiences make you qualified to tell him he's _special? _Just because your parents left you out of 'love' doesn't mean I did the same. Seeley said you're a genius, but you're stupid as shit, just like he is."

He then slammed her body once more, this time causing her head to ricochet against the wall. Brennan reared her head back and whipped it forward, colliding with Ed's. He released her and held his head in his hands. Brennan leaned forward holding her abdomen and taking large breaths to try and compensate for her lack of oxygen.

"If there's one thing you should know about the Booth clan, Temperance, it is that we have hard heads." He laughed at his own twisted humor. Brennan glared at him as she stood erect, preparing to defend herself as he took an aggressive stance again.

Ed smiled, his eyes bloodshot and dark.

"After all, that's what got Seeley's mother killed."

* * *

><p>Booth stepped off the elevator and onto Brennan's floor. He adjusted the bundles in his arms as he approached her apartment door and knocked in his distinct and impatient manner.<p>

No answer.

He knocked again, this time using the side of his hand for more force and volume.

No answer.

_She must be changing, _he thought. He tried the doorknob and found that it was unlocked. _She's had multiple murderers in her apartment, yet she still refuses to lock the door when she's home alone. _He closed the door behind him and placed what he'd carried on the table with the other gifts for Parker by the door.

"Bones! It's Booth!"

* * *

><p>Staggering towards her, Ed huffed unevenly, shoulders wide and tense. When Brennan believed she had a shot at his face, she drove the heel of her hand into his nose and tilted sideways as she delivered a blow with her foot to his left ribs. He choked out a cough and grabbed her ankle before she could return it to her side. He lifted her leg swiftly into the air, catching Brennan off balance and sending her to her chest on the floor immediately. Ed kneeled onto her back and pinned her arms behind her, and yanked her up with them twisted together.<p>

Brennan heard her partner call out and started calling his name. Before she could hardly even get her mouth open, Ed slapped his hand against her mouth and shoved her roughly across the room to her bathroom and locked the door behind them.

She sent a donkey kick his way and smashed he foot on the instep of one of his feet in an attempt to be freed. He winced at the sting of her blow and became even angrier. He kicked the backs of both of her knees as he held her. Her eyes instantly watered with pain and she looked into the mirror to see his snarl beside her own face of anguish.

He pulled her tight to his body and increased his grip on her mouth and the arm behind her back. He had her other arm pinned to her side and clawing at his pants in an attempt to cause pain, or at the very least, irritation to cause him to release her.

He drew his mouth close to her ear once more, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

"I heard you had belts in martial arts or something, but it seems those are as worthless as your doctorates. You're stupid, Temperance, just like that dense partner of yours that is my son. He plays the hero and the good guy, and look where it got him. Two botched proposals. That horrible son of his. A morbid job, and an awful, cold partner at that. I knew he'd never amount to _anything."_

* * *

><p>Booth entered the kitchen, sensing something. <em>Do I smell what I think I smell? <em>He lifted the foil on one of the glass baking dishes on the counter, finding the famous macaroni and cheese he loved so dearly. _Hell yes! _He grabbed the closest tasting spoon and loaded a huge pile of the dish into his mouth.

Through the food he yelled, "You know, one of these days, someone you really don't want in here is going to sneak in and take all of your tribey-statue things and then you won't have bumper crops or whatever these things are for."

He entered the living room and saw the decorations – baseball in theme with red and blue tableware and streamers. He thought to his gift for Parker and wished that he'd thought enough ahead to say that he'd planned the nice coincidence.

"Bones!" he called, excited about the setup. "It all looks great. Are you listening?" He stepped to the stereo and turned down the bouncy pop song that was floating in the air. "Bones?"

He heard a slam, followed by a door closing coming from Brennan's room. "Uh, everything alright in there, Bones? You sound like you're struggling a bit." He leaned his ear up to the door and gave three sharp knocks. "You know, Bones, I'm a cop. When I hear something suspicious behind a door, I gotta come in."

Booth became worried. If nothing else, he was concerned that she'd dropped something and was ignoring him, as she did quite often. He turned the knob of her bedroom door slowly, peeking his head in cautiously and called again, "Bones?"

A muffled sound came from Brennan's bathroom. "Bones, seriously, say something. Are you alright in there?" He placed his hand on the handle of the door to her bathroom and wiggled it to find it locked. As if in response to the movement of the door handle, he heard a second muffled sound, this time high-pitched and louder than the last.

"Bones! I'm coming in!" Booth stepped back to Brennan's bed and gathered momentum. Using all the force he could muster, he kicked the door open to find his father crashing his partially-clothed partner's head into her sink counter.

Booth wasted no time in getting across the bathroom. Ed kept his grip strong on Brennan. Booth swung and placed one, two left handed jabs to Ed's right cheek and eye, and finished it with a hook with his right to Ed's left zygomatic bone.

Ed fell back onto his hands and scuffled away from Booth as he tried to stand. Upon gaining his footing, he called out to Booth. "We were just talking about you, Seeley. That dumb bitch thought she could take me. Just like you used to think you could. She seems a lot like your mother, overestimating her ability to fight like that."

For Booth, that was all he needed to hear. Booth slammed his father into the glass of the shower, causing it to shatter under the immense force. Ed collapsed into the stall on top of the small shards, blacked out from the combination of his drunkenness and impact.

It was all he could do to not pull his gun and shoot the man who had just insulted the two women that meant the most to him in his life, but the crumpled body of Brennan laying on the floor brought him out of the haze and into action.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do you think? I know some of you thought it might be Jared... not so much. This certainly puts quite the wrench in the healing of the Booth family. Were you on the edge of your seat? Were you completely bored? Was this predictable or surprising? The only way I know to please you is for you to review! <strong>

**The excitement over the last chapter encouraged me to write faster - so let me know what you think. You'd be surprised how fast I'll crank out another chapter with the right motivation ;)**

**-zee**


	28. The Fallout

Brennan tried to focus elsewhere as the pain of Ed's grip and multiple blows to her back coursed through her body. He took a fistful of her hair and pulled. _I can't let him think I am weak. _She tossed from side to side, each twist and jerk met with a knee to her ribs. She was crouched over intuitively, protecting her vital organs.

His grip on her hair triggered a memory her compartmentalized brain hadn't accessed in decades. She remembered having a tender head as a child when her mother would brush her hair for school in the mornings. Most of the time, Brennan would request a basic and tame ponytail, despite the fact that the trend then involved more hairspray and teasing. Never one to favor popularity over practicality, Brennan wore this ponytail the majority of the time.

Her distraction was temporary and insufficient once Ed held her firmly by the throat and the head and slammed her temple into the bathroom counter. Brennan attempted to hold her arms out to push herself away from the counter to no avail. _I can hear Booth. He's coming closer. _The locked bathroom door wiggled back and forth.

Brennan screeched from beneath Ed's hand in response to Booth's attempt.

_Slam. _

Her mouth filled with blood.

_Slam. _

The door suddenly exploded, pieces of cheap imitation wood flying every which way.

_Slam. _

Booth took two giant steps toward Ed. Brennan's vision clouded as she tried to get a look at Booth.

_Slam._

Almost as if synchronized, Brennan's head was slammed one last time as she heard Booth's fist make skin contact, once, twice, three times. The vice-like grip on her arm was relinquished, and she fell into a pile.

She blinked once, twice. The _swish swish _of the blood pounding through her skull was unbearable. She blinked again, releasing moisture onto the floor. The tile was cold on her torso and forearms. She lay there concentrating on the sounds of a man yelling and promptly jerked in response to the sound of glass shattering.

It was then she felt a warm, calloused hand on the small of her back. The feeling was somewhat familiar and kept her conscious for that much longer. She heard a low voice and felt a second hand smooth the hair from her face. She met his brown eyes deep with rage with her blue ones after blinking once again.

He raised his eyebrows and gave a quick, breathy laugh. His lips were pressed together in a line, disguising the rage and worry he felt. He cautiously rolled her onto her back, cradling her neck as one would with a newborn. His touch was tender, a strange juxtaposition with the man currently lying in scattered glass shards, Brennan thought.

Brennan's eyes fluttered open and closed - she smiled at Booth, still panting from his exertion. He smiled back at the woman, forehead dampened by blood. A hematoma was forming on her temple that could be easily seen from what seemed to be outer space. Booth' s thoughts shifted quickly to anger as he cursed his father for trying to destroy such a beautiful face.

His thoughts, however, led him to remember other beautiful features. Namely the incredible bosom he was now face-to-face with. It was quite difficult to focus on the situation at hand when two glorious pale globes sat before him nestled in what Booth wanted to believe was her most conservative brassiere – nude pushup with a fine-gauge lace.

"If you want to admire my chest, Booth, that is just fine. However, I am somewhat sure I may…" her voice cracked as she winced, forehead crinkling save from her swollen temple. "…be concussed, as I am experiencing some…" she paused one more and swallowed.

Booth, who through peewee hockey and military training knew more about concussions than the average man, reached for the shallow wastebasket under the sink counter. In just the nick of time, he swiftly raised Brennan's head to wretch into the receptacle. Several times she released a stream of what little tastes she'd had that day of the food she'd prepared.

It was then that the pair heard a knock on the front door of the apartment. _Fuck, _Booth thought. His ears were now filtering out the dry-heaving occurring in his arms and zoning in on the footsteps through the wood floors of the apartment. He was on high alert, despite knowing the chance of someone else wanting to hurt Brennan was slim to none.

"Tempe! The party can start now!" _Thank God, it's only Jared. _

"Jared!" Booth bellowed. "Get in here now!" Footsteps grew increasingly louder and Booth noticed a second set, a _click click. Padme, _he thought. Jared now stood in the doorway with a grin on his face at the sight of a topless Brennan and Booth leaning over her.

Booth turned his body, still supporting Brennan's head, her hand gripped weakly at his wrist. Jared now caught a glimpse of Brennan's bloodied face and his grin was quickly replaced by a look of horror. "What the hell have you…"

Jared's eyes snapped to the collapsed shower wall and the glass that had seemingly exploded all over the room. He processed the scene as Padme appeared by his left side, instantly gasping and taking hold of Jared's arm. "He…" Jared paused, extending a palm in the direction of the man passed out in the floor of the shower. "He did this to Tempe?" Jared focused now on the blood and sweat pouring down Brennan's face. Booth solemnly nodded, turning back to his injured partner to offer a look Jared could only describe as pity or guilt.

Booth maintained eye contact with Brennan as he delivered instructions to Jared. "I want you to get him out of here. I don't want him anywhere near here, nowhere in the district. If he wakes up, make it clear that if he comes anywhere near her again, he won't be going through another shower door. It will be a .45mm through his frontal bone." He turned again as Brennan's body jerked and heaved unproductively.

Booth leaned in to Brennan and smiled weakly, both disgusted and concerned for the woman in his arms. "We've got to go now," he whispered. "I'm assuming you'd rather me take you to the hospital than call an ambulance?" The question, although phrased for her decision, was more for his benefit. _If I call dispatch now, it will take them at least four minutes to get here, five to get her back to the ambulance, and four more to arrive at the medical center. If I drive, we'll be there in three. _Admittedly, there were unspoken perks to having a large government-issued vehicle with a siren.

Brennan only nodded slowly, causing some concern for Booth. In any other situation, Brennan would have a highly-evolved reason for her preference, perhaps citing that she did not need urgent medical attention or that it was wasteful to call dispatch for something that Booth could do on his own. However, she offered him no more than this nod.

Her hand held firm to his wrist as he gently slid his right arm under her legs. "Alright, I'm going to pick you up now, alright?"

Brennan released his arm and waved her hand before his face. "No, no, let me walk. It's only a slight head injury, many concussed people can…"

Before she could finish her thought, Booth had her lifted in his arms. _At least that brain of hers is still working. That asshole did a number to her head. _She gave up her argument and grasped a handful of Booth's shirt, leaning into him.

Jared nodded firmly as he passed, rage replacing the immense irritation in his eyes as he walked towards the shower. The smell of alcohol teased him. Jared decided that after today, he would catalogue the tempting smell wafting from the man on the floor with the image of Brennan's limp body and most likely have no problem saying no to a drink in the future.

Booth carried Brennan into her bedroom and met gazes with Padme. Her eyes were tear-filled and streaks of mascara were carving sad, anxious lines into her caramel brown cheeks. "Would you…" he began, jerking his head in the direction of a blanket at the foot of Brennan's bed and back to his arms. "I'm pretty sure she's not dressed for the weather." Padme nodded quickly and snatched the blanket up from the bed. She sniffled as she padded over to him, draping the blanket over Brennan's back and torso and over Booth's right shoulder.

"She's going to be fine, you know." He offered, hoping that Padme would not be scared away by yet another Booth family drama.

The nature of Booth's profession allowed him to learn a lot about people and their reactions to stressors. He'd heard everything in the book, and everything in between. However, Padme's response to his solicitous comfort was unexpected, despite what he'd heard and seen in his life in law enforcement.

"I'm just upset that Jared never got the chance to see his father… better." The last word fell out of her mouth almost accidentally. Better didn't seem to fit, and they both could feel the awkwardness of the phrasing. She continued, "He had an excellent grandfather, a great big brother, and I just wanted this to all work out." She sniffed once more with feeling and wiped the tears from her eyes, seemingly shifting from a vulnerable and delicate woman to one of resolve. "We'll get this all cleaned up for her, don't worry. Go on, now." She gave a 'scoot' motion with her hands, then smoothed her dress and walked into the bathroom. _No wonder my brother is in love with her. Just the right amount of pulled together for him._

He had not even made it to the front door when he heard another knock. He silently prayed to any Saint that would listen for the next visitor to be anyone but Parker or one of his friends. Luckily, after the second knock, the guest popped through the door with a baby carrier on her chest.

Angela pushed through the doorway to be greeted by Booth and Brennan's blanket-draped form. She followed in the pattern Padme set and gasped, but flipped her attitude quickly at Booth's facial insistence.

"Please wait here for the parents of Parker's friends and explain to them… well I don't know, tell them…"

"You don't have to come up with something, Big Guy, I've got this. You just figure out how to get Bren fixed up. What happened?" Hodgins entered as the question was asked, jaw dropped as he set his sight on the bruised and bloodied face of his colleague.

"Hodgins, go help Jared in the bathroom. He can explain, but I'm sure you'll understand when you get in there."

"Yeah man," he dropped the gift bags in his hands and looked Booth in the eyes, "whatever you say."

With this, Booth stepped out of Brennan's apartment and headed toward the back stairs, hoping for less of an audience than he expected at the elevator. He quickly descended the stairs, thinking about which route would be the most efficient in getting Brennan to medical care as soon as possible.

His thoughts we interrupted when he felt a shift in heat on his chest. He looked down and stared into two icy blue-grey eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her sclera were pink, but he found that these eyes still had to be the most beautiful he'd ever seen. He bent his head down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I've got you,baby. I've got you."

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><p>Thanks to <strong>TheSquintMe <strong>for the prodding necessary to get me to post the next chapter. I am encouraged that there are still readers out there. **  
><strong>

HOWEVER, I'd love for some of you shadow-dwellers to show yourselves! Even if that doesn't mean leaving a review, send me a PM or catch me on twitter **broilthesuspect. **Let's be friends. Seriously. And encourage me not to be so lazy in my updates.

Thank you all for reading, I look forward to your feedback!


	29. The Knowing

**I DO NOT OWN BONES OR THE CHARACTERS ASSOCIATED WITH IT. Although that would be pretty fucking cool.**

**A/N: Wait, there are still people reading this?**

**But seriously, thank you, you kind people. You've seen what kind of ridiculous things I've written and you've read it anyway. A special few of you have even reviewed! It means more than you know to see that people are enjoying something that I have put effort into. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. **

**Sadly, this will be the last chapter of Pain in the Past. This update was incredibly delayed due to the unexpected turn in my (now husband!)'s health. He was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia just last week - we are in the process of finding healthcare, a new home, and a big screen TV, so life has been a little wild. **

**However, I do have another story in the works... until I can work out what I feel is a viable plot, I refuse to release it. If you're interested in some more Broil-y goodness, review and sign up for my author alerts, or follow me on twitter! (same exact username)**

**Please enjoy this chapter. I have written it longer and have even had some help from a friend *cough* dharmamonkey *cough* doing some edits to go out with PitP with a BANG!**

**Love to you all!**

**-Broil**

* * *

><p>"I'm not feeble, Booth. I can feed myself." Brennan wrenched her head away from the proffered spoon.<p>

"Bones, I'm tellin' ya, this is THE best pudding I've had since my mom's."

She shook her head adamantly. "I don't need to be spoon-fed. My fine motor skills are functioning as well as before the accident."

"You know, Bones, you're allowed to just be pitiful, you know. How about Jello? Parker's favorite was the blue kind, but the caf didn't have it so I got you red…"

"Do you even know what's in Jello, Booth? In order to acquire the collagen required to make gelatin, the bones and hides of cows and pigs are boiled. The process is not dissimilar to that which we use to clean the bones during an investigation."

Booth's face grew progressively scrunched in the process of listening to her speak. Booth clapped the spoon and cup down on the bedside table. "You have to eat something, Bones." She recognized the look he gave her. Protective, not quite fatherly, but certainly filled with more concern than that of someone who was simply a 'partner.' She'd grown fond of it.

"Angela is coming later and is bringing a salad to me. Happy?" She pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side, inciting a weak but lopsided grin from her partner.

"So you're too good for hospital food? Where was my gourmet-fancy-pants salad when I was in the hospital, huh?" He joked, though it was only a convenient façade. In the days after Brennan was attacked, Booth had replayed the day over and over.

_What if I'd gotten Parker's birthday gift ahead of time? Or if we'd had the party at my place. If I'd just seen through my father. If I'd not been so concerned with what I was going to wear. If I hadn't made that last minute stop outside Brennan's apartment… _The thoughts went on like that until distractions eventually took hold of him otherwise. In this case, it was Brennan's rationalization of Booth's 'sub-par' experience in the hospital.

"… if you'd only asked, I would have brought you something more to your liking. Angela too."

Booth smiled shrewdly. If given the opportunity to rank his personal specialties, Booth figured that teasing could easily be in the top ten. _Marksmanship, _he thought, mentally counting off. _The sack, gambling, hockey, cooking Italian, identifying a lie, fixing cars - among others. _He often used his teasing to amuse himself, and there was no better target than one Temperance Brennan.

"I didn't have to ask Perotta to bring me chili when I was out of work with my back! " He used his index finger to emphasize his point. For a split second, Booth saw something. He used another of his top skills, reading body language, to interpret its meaning. At the mention of Agent Perotta, Brennan's nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly.

"Something wrong, there Bones? Got somethin' wrong with Agent Perotta?"

Brennan quickly recovered, rolling her eyes skyward and shaking her head quickly. "No, but I've made it very clear that I would not enjoy working with another agent."

"Well maybe I want a new anthropologist, huh? Maybe I want to change it up a bit, get a change of scenery." He looked her up and down, demonstrating just what he meant by 'scenery.'

Brennan pulled herself up in the bed, pressing her palms into the mattress. "There are far more candidates to replace you than could replace me, Booth," she scoffed. "Although, you could work with Dr. Edison or Dr. Stires…"

Brennan watched as Booth's demeanor changed instantly. From working so closely with Booth over the years, she learned that not many things made him as angry as being reminded of the ex-boyfriends of Brennan's that he had staunchly not approved.

Booth's sternocleidomastoid tensed in synchronization with his jaw. "Huh-uh," he said, his forearms tightened and fists formed in resolute anger. "No way, no how. Not that jagoff."

"I hardly believe Michael is worthy of such a title, Booth."

_You hardly believe? _he thought. _What's not to believe? The asshole was under oath for the majority of the time he was screwing with your feelings. Hah. And to think people call you 'disconnected' from the world. How does she have the patience to continuously deal with guys like this? She's gorgeous, anyone can see that – so why is it that all the bottom-feeders have to come calling?_

He moved closer, crossing his arms. "Listen, any guy…" He paused unsure of how to phrase his opinion without either lying to his partner. "…Any guy who treats a woman the way he treated you is unworthy to be anyone's partner."

"If I recall, you were not as gentlemanly as usual during that case either." She mirrored him, crossing her arms. "You betrayed confidences just like Michael did."

Booth snapped his arm at the elbow and jabbed his index finger at Brennan once again. "You said my choice was _rational." _He nearly spit the word, eager to have her understand just how ridiculous she sounded. "That you would have done the same thing given that you were in my position." He gave a waggle of his eyebrows, knowing that he'd remembered this detail in exacting clarity. _She basically said I was right. That doesn't happen every day._

Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. "While that may be true, you were just as guilty as he was-"

He interrupted her suddenly, bringing up what neither of them seemed to want to, arms open at his sides as if offering all of the truth he had. "But _I _wasn't sleeping with you!" _I sure as hell wanted to be, but no, we're partners. _He could feel his insides exploding, as if someone had unleashed the contents of Pandora's box in his chest.

Brennan's jaw dropped, and her black and blue forehead crinkled at his admission. "He had no right to betray you," he growled, "getting information out of you about the case when he knew well that he would be testifying for the defense. What I did was to humanize you, to help the jury see that you were not just some cold fish!" His words grew progressively breathless yet more emphatic as he spoke. "I did you a favor. That – that jackass had no right to get close to you personally in order to fuck with you professionally. I would never manipulate you like that."

Brennan sat still, her arms still crossed over her gown-clad chest. She watched as Booth breathed in and out with ragged breath, attempting to recapture some sort of rhythm. She wondered how this topic had become such a hot button for Booth. _Had I missed something during the case?_ she wondered. _ I've known Michael for years but I never imagined that would happen. Sometimes things don't go as we've planned, but why is Booth so irate about something that was simply another minute event in my life? _"Booth, why are…"

Again, he didn't allow her to finish. "Angry? Why am I angry? I think the real question is why aren't _you _angry, Bones? For the last three days, I've watched you laugh with Angela, watch meaningless television shows, and joke about shit that shouldn't be joked about." His hands moved wildly, accenting each syllable he flung into the air. "You had intracranial swelling that could have been fatal. Thank God you were okay, because I think there would have been a lot of angry people if one of the most talented brains on Earth were damaged."

She smiled, the compliment pleasing her. It was not often she was told her value; typically she would assert her own importance more to inform than to brag.

"I don't know why you're smiling," he said, frustrated by her seemingly oblivious attitude. "How is it that all your life you've been shit on by the people that supposedly love you and you're still here? How can you handle all of this? There have been people that abandoned you, torn you apart, abused you, wanted you dead, tried to kill you… how have you not given up?" His voice cracked; its edges laced with the beginnings of tears.

Brennan uncrossed her arms and placed one hand gingerly on Booth's forearm. "Booth, are you alright?" He sighed shakily, sitting abruptly in the chair situated by her bedside. He let his elbows be supported on his knees but allowed her hand to rest on his arm. His head dropped and he shook it slightly, focusing on the thumb Brennan gently smoothed back and forth over his arm.

"I can't do it, Bones," he said dejectedly. "I can't watch these things happen to you. And this time was worse than it has been. It was my own father, for God's sake. The one who beat me! Left me! And I allowed him into my life and my son's life with little hesitation. I can't – "

It was her turn. "What you can't do, Booth, is blame yourself," she said quietly. Not for what happened to me as a child, and not what happened to me with your father. If you remember correctly, I was the one that convinced you to give him a chance, the way you told me to give my father a chance. I thought I was doing the right thing by encouraging you – but as it turns out, you're infinitely better at reading people than I am. You saw through your father, but for some reason, you listened to me."

A moment passed in silence as Booth considered her words. His right leg bounced feverishly and his heart pounded. Her eyes did not leave the top of his head, waiting for a response of any sort. It was then that he slowly moved his hand to cover hers on his arm. In reaction to his touch, she curled her fingers to grip the tips of his and he squeezed back.

His leg stilled and his head shook slowly side to side. He clutched her hand as the only thing holding him together in this moment, the only thing that prevented a total breakdown. Slowly he lifted his head so that his eyes faced the edge of the sheet that covered Brennan's body. He spoke almost timidly, afraid his words would shatter what little composure he still maintained.

"I worry, Bones. I've worried about you since the day we became partners." He drew another ragged breath and released a sigh. "It's what I'm good at… protecting people I mean. I… I worry about you and about Parker, and even about all those goofy squints at the lab." He smiled for but a moment, thinking of the geeks he had to work with. The smile faded. "And what we do, it's… it's great, don't get me wrong," he shrugged. "But sometimes it is incredibly hard to take you into the field knowing that these people we are supposed to bring in obviously had no problem killing someone already."

Brennan turned her body so that her legs were hanging off the side of the bed closest to Booth. She dipped her head in an attempt to make eye contact. "You're forgetting one thing," she said. He lifted his head. He matched her gaze with glistening eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly and his lips quivered ever-so-slightly. She continued, "I was the one that made you take me out in the field, remember?"

He did remember.

_She stormed away from the vehicle, and from him. "I'm the one with the badge and the gun," he said, jogging after her. "You know, you're not the only forensic anthropologist in town." She laughed at his obvious stupidity. "Yes, I am. __The next nearest is in Montreal. Parlez-vous Français?" _

I know enough French to know you're mocking me, _he thought. He stopped in his tracks, determined not to let such a talented woman slip from his grasp. _Er, the FBI's grasp, that is. _He knew how difficult she could be. "What's it gonna take?" _

_She turned and smiled. _

"I do remember," he said, smiling at the memory. He'd gotten her back in the car, and from that point on he'd been able to call her his partner. He sniffed, finding that moisture was escaping from his eyes and nose now. The memory faded back into the depths of his mind as he remembered the conversation at hand. "But so many times, Bones. So many times I could have lost you… _we _could have lost you." He gazed into her eyes once more and continued, "They play over and over some times when I can't sleep – a hit put out by that gang leader, Kenton kidnapping you, getting attacked in Louisiana, Taffet burying you and Hodgins alive, Fat Pam trying to shoot you…" his voice trailed off.

His head dropped once again, this time signifying his surrender to his own emotions. He began to sob silently, although his back and shoulders shook violently with his rapid intakes of breath. Brennan squeezed his hand tightly. He wiped his eyes and joined his hand with his other and hers. He inhaled sharply. "I can't… do this anymore."

Brennan's eyes became glassy with tears and confusion. _ Can't do what? Be partners? _She had a good idea about where he was going with this, but dared not to interrupt him. She pulled away slightly, retreating to the safer confines of her hospital bed.

"No, no, I mean…" Booth started, reaching again for her hand. "I don't mean with you. I mean…" Angry at himself, he stood. Booth nervously ran his hand over his hair. The frustration at his own misspoken words seeped through his every pore.

"I…" Brennan began. She looked down at her hands. "…don't understand."

Booth dragged his hands down his sleep-deprived face. Its lines were worn and tired from days of sleeping upright in a plastic-covered hospital chair. _Terrible excuse for furniture, _Booth thought. He let out a labored sigh. Turning back to Brennan, it was all he could do to avoid crying again.

_This woman, _he thought. _This woman will be the death of me. The death of both of us. She jokes about all of the things that attract men to her, but she doesn't understand how much it really affects them. Affects me. _This _woman, intelligent, beautiful, influential, intimidating. Honestly, I'm surprised it took me as long as it did to say something about it. Break the 'stalemate' as Sweets called it. Hell, it took a damn brain tumor to figure out I loved her. Love her. _

"Booth?" Brennan questioned, pulling Booth out of his own headspace. "_What _can't you do?"

Booth again stepped to her bedside where she remained with her legs thrown over the side. He sat heavily in the chair across from her. Hands clasped together, he began to recount the story he'd kept under lock and key.

"Do you remember the night I came to get you in the rain? When you…"

"When I told you that I didn't want to have regrets and I wanted to correct my error?" Booth snickered at her use of such clinical language for an evening that was far from it.

"If you want to put it that way." He flashed her a charm smile, not masking his amusement at her candor. "Well, you know I was with Hannah – and I've… well, I've fucked up in my life, Bones, but I really wanted it to work with her." He paused, unintentionally allowing another wave of discomfort to wash over the room. Exasperated, he continued. "I wanted that to be it – I wanted the search to be over – for my life to finally be completed by her. I wanted to get married, maybe have a kid with her…"

Brennan's confusion came to a head. "Why are you telling me this, Booth? I know about Hannah. You know, figs, not the marrying type, Afghanistan, you didn't listen, proposal, denial…" Booth cringed as she continued, "…the whole ten yards." She shook her head, frankly annoyed that this chapter of their lives need be rehashed.

"Nine, Bones. The whole _nine _yards." Her lips pressed together in a line and she tilted her head.

"But you said that a first down was a whole ten yards."

"First down is football, Bones." He laughed to himself. "Two different things." He smiled genuinely and scooted his chair closer to her bed. He took her hand in his and admired it as he spoke. "You're right about all of that. But I didn't want to bring it up to irritate you." _Although, clearly she's pissed, _he thought. "I brought it up because you have to know it was a mistake." It was Brennan's turn to look away. Booth inched his head closer to hers and explained, "You see, Bones, the world isn't black and white like you seem to think sometimes. I loved Hannah, don't get me wrong. I was obviously upset when we broke up…" He immediately stopped, knowing he'd gone about it in the wrong way then she interrupted.

"I know, Booth," she asserted calmly, turned from him. "Remember, Hannah called _me _to come deal with you." There was a twinge of resentment in her tone, Booth noted. Maintaining hold of her hand, he smilled and gazed at her turned face.

"You know why she did that, don't you?"

She snorted incredulously. "Most likely on account of the fact that I was one of her only friends or that I was the first one she could find in her contacts." Truth be told, Brennan had thought about this very question before. It seemed to her that a male friend like Sweets or Hodgins would be better suited for the job.

Booth gave a quick laugh and squeezed her hand. "As adorable as it is to hear your squinty brain attempt to figure out why humans do things, I'll save you some time." He moved his head to the side to try to find eye contact. Her eyes were closed.

Booth continued, his voice soft and barely audible. "She called you because she knew. Hannah _knew. _Cam knew. Hodgins knew. Lord knows, Angela knew. Max, Pops, Caroline, and Sweets all knew."

Brennan's eyes were tightly closed; her last defense from attack. Booth stood and propped one arm across the bed beside Brennan's hip and softly placed a single finger under her chin and tilted her head up. Her icy blue-green eyes now opened and fixated on his brown ones. "I knew. You knew. I don't care that you don't believe in fate. I know you believe in, what? A bunch of variables that randomly occur? I don't buy it. You… and I? That isn't random. It's not just luck. You and I, we belong together." He held her gaze, desperately clinging to the hope that she'd abandon her qualms for a moment to hear him out.

_This isn't happening, _she thought. _After what we've been through, the whiplash of confessions of love and missed opportunities, this simply isn't happening. _

Her disbelief must have been evident. Booth immediately read and comprehended her distress. "Bones, tell me you know."

At the mention of the nickname he'd given her, she closed her eyes once more, releasing several rogue tears to slip down her face. Her breathing stuttered and she opened her eyes. There was a sudden resignation, a surrender to the features of her face.

She did what she never thought she would again. She leaned in to him and placed a chaste kiss delicately on his lips. She pulled her head back and looked at him once more. "I know."

He took her words to be an express permission for what was to follow. He cupped his other hand around her other cheek and pulled her into him. Their lips met in a frenzy - years of suppressed feelings intermingling with raw passion. She skated her tongue over his lips and was granted access immediately. He ran his tongue over her teeth and twisted it ferociously around hers. Her arm unencumbered by an IV left her side and settled on his broad shoulder. Through the crisp material of his dress shirt, she could feel his deltoids tensed from what she imagined to be pent-up sexual energy. He shivered slightly at the feel of her hand sliding up his neck and behind his ears.

Booth propped himself on the bed on his palms as Brennan grazed her nails over his french blue-clad chest. She gripped a handful of his shirt in her fist and pulled him closer, if it was even possible. The two alternated in a nearly coordinated dance for dominance. Brennan bit his lip and Booth released a guttural growl. He responded by drawing a line from the corner of her upturned mouth to the lobe of her ear with his tongue. Her back arched off the mattress in pure pleasure and anticipation. Booth slipped a hand beneath the thin material of her hospital gown, moving slowly to ensure her comfort in the ever-escalating situation. Just as Brennan's fingers began to deftly loosen the tie around his neck, there was a knock on the door, followed by its abrupt opening followed by a mock-enthused voice.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you…" Angela walked into the room, but stopped abruptly soon thereafter. She sighted Brennan's head, neck craned to see her best friend over Booth's shoulder. Booth's back rose and fell as he breathed heavily leaned over Brennan.

"Ange!" cried Brennan. "We were just…" Her tone was not panicked, simply shocked. Booth stood erect and whipped around, adjusting his tie and folding his collar back down around his neck.

"No need to explain to me, Sweetie," Angela smiled. "This," she gestured between them with her index finger, "I understand." She set the takeout bag on the nightstand beside the bed. As she passed Booth as she exited, she placed a hand on his bicep. "Thank God you finally came to your senses. That small mid-western town was starting to look a little like Shanghai." She patted his arm and headed out the door.

Booth's brows furrowed; he was unable to discern Angela's meaning but assumed it was along the lines of 'long time coming.' As he turned back towards his partner, he rubbed a circle in the back of his head nervously. _My partner, _he mused. _My Bones. What is this now? _His eyes betrayed his wariness in the moment. "I don't know what to say…" he trailed off, maintaining eye contact with Brennan. "I…" a lopsided smile slowly creeped across his face as reality set in. He stepped closer to Brennan. "…just don't know."

Her cheeks flushed. "Of course you do," she replied. She reached for his hand. He leaned in and kissed her yet again, this time confident in its meaning. As he leaned back to look at her, she beamed. He kissed her forehead and released her hand. "I think I'm going to go find the doctor so we can get you discharged and… uh… _continue _where we left off – somewhere more private." He winked at her, sending more rosy hues to the tips of her ears, nose, and the rounds of her cheeks.

He turned and strolled towards the door. When he reached the threshold, he paused for a moment and asked simply, "So now do you believe in fate?" He turned his head slightly to hear her answer.

She answered matter-of-factly, causing a smile to emerge on Booth's face.

"Of course not, ludicrous."

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><p><strong>SO, what did you think? Did it finish how you wanted it? Did you<strong> **really think I would leave you all without a LITTLE romance? Pish posh...**


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